


Three Weeks

by mmmuse



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse/pseuds/mmmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Ross and Demelza's life during the three weeks that pass while their marriage banns are being read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: While the lion's share of my exposure to the Poldark universe consists of the 2015 television series, I have had the chance to read the first book through once. And I now find my mind blurring the content between the two. The television show seems to imply Ross and Demelza wed very quickly -- almost immediately -- following The Night of the Blue Dress, but the book seems to cover the traditional three week timeframe for the banns to be read. I found the latter to be more of an interesting road to explore for this set of chapters, for reasons that will -- I hope -- become clear. Please feel free to leave me your comments and feedback... I am always looking to improve! 
> 
> This story picks up from the end of Episode 1:3 of the Poldark 2015 series. Some of the back story I will incorporate comes from my piece "Then Let it Be True", the third part from my [Discovery series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/303369). Not required reading by any stretch, but I may reference some things from it within the chapters for this. 
> 
> Thank you, Winston Graham, for writing such fantastic characters and my many thanks to Sherylyn for the beta!

“You will become my wife,” Ross stated to the young woman standing on the road in front of him.

Demelza stared at Ross, the bag at her shoulder sliding down to the ground with a thump. She could scarcely believe she’d heard him correctly. “I—I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered, “I’m to become—”

“My wife,” he repeated, swinging down from his horse and dropping the reins. Darkie immediately dropped her head towards what appeared to be a succulent patch of grass near her feet. Ross slowly approached Demelza, removing his gloves and stashing them away in his coat pocket. She’d loved his hands from the very first time she’d seen them: strong, commanding. They’d come to her aid more times than she could count. And now… now that she’d known them to be gentle, insistent, skilled in making her feel passion and pleasure, she could scarcely take her eyes from them. She forced herself to shift her gaze to his face, to meet his eyes with her own as he came to a stop before her. “And it’s Ross, if you please,” he said gently, taking one of her hands in his own.

She blinked. “R—Ross.” Inwardly, she cursed herself for stumbling over his name. She’d said it the night before, so often during their lovemaking that it should be second nature by now, but it wasn’t. And the hand that held hers was igniting flames of need in her blood when what she needed was to keep her wits about her. _Marry_ her? He must have got too much sun today! “You can’t mean to marry me, Ross!”

“Why not?” He looked at her, his eyes partially obscured through the fringes of his lashes, making him more unreadable than usual.

She found she didn’t care for it one bit and it made her temper flare hot.  “I’m not of your sort!” she exclaimed, snatching her hand out of his and whirling around to face the sea. “Your family and friends will cast you aside!” She could already picture the look on Elizabeth’s face: horrified, repulsed. “And the talk, oh…the talk in the village, there will be no saving you from that!”

His hands were on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. “Believe me,” Ross said, “I am not deceiving myself. There _will_ be scandal.” She watched as the corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. “As a matter of fact, there is a good part of me that relishes being cast out from society. But that isn’t the reason for my proposal.” He looked at her; the setting sun lightened his eyes to a warm, whiskey brown, and it made the stiffness of her spine relax. “Will you return to Nampara with me?”

Her spine snapped rigid once more. “Sir—Ross, ‘tis a folly you speak of!” she cried, emotions raging between disbelief, incredulity and hope. She couldn’t bear going back to the only place she’d truly considered home only to turn around and leave it once more should what he had in mind turn out to be the stuff of fairy tales.

“Demelza,” he implored her, and the hands on her shoulders squeezed tight before sliding down to cup her elbows, sending shivers of pleasure down her arms. “We…” he paused, his voice deeper and more intimate, “we need to discuss what happened last night.” She felt her cheeks grow warm and the pulse increase in her throat. “All we’ve done is react to it. Any decisions made about the future requires more than mere reaction.” His right hand released her arm, and a finger reached out to her jawline. “Come back with me before you decide on whatever plans you have in mind.”

She met his eyes with a look she hoped was as steady as his own and nodded once. The tension in his shoulders relaxed and he nodded in return before leaning to pick up her bag. He swung it over the back of Darkie’s saddle.

“Can we walk for a while, R—Ross?” she said, silently cursing the stammer over his name, yet again. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she could take riding next to him quite yet.

He frowned. “Well, yes, of course we can,” he said, securing her bag with deft, efficient movements. “The sun will be down shortly and we’ve a ways to go to get back. Will you agree to mount the horse when I ask you to?”

She nodded and set the pace. Ross gathered Darkie’s reins and matched his stride to hers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They walked in silence for several minutes. The sun had begun to tease the edge of the horizon, turning the sky and clouds in shades of pinks and violets and brilliant, crimson red. It was a beautiful evening for two lovers to stroll along the moors, yet in that moment, Ross could not have been distracted by the splendour of the night or the young woman at his side. His mind was racing as he searched for something to say. What _does_ a man say after he’s made an offer of marriage? While he hadn’t dared to hope Demelza would leap at the offer the moment it had passed his lips, he hadn’t thought she’d put up much resistance to the idea. He _knew_ what needed to be done. Knew what would be best. Now, all he had to do was convince her he was right.

“You worked the barley field today,” Demelza said suddenly, startling the horse and its master from his musings.

Ross flashed a look down at Demelza. She was twisting her fingers along the edge of her cloak, her eyes downcast. “Uh, yes, we did or, rather, I did,” he replied, using his free hand to rub Darkie’s nose to soothe her. “Jud proved to be his usual less-than-accommodating self.”

 _That_ made her glance up at him, a tease of laughter sparkling in her sea-green eyes. “I’ve always wanted to ask, why do you put up his laziness, Sss—Ross?”

It was his turn to smile at the correction. “He was very close to my father,” Ross said, a picture of the late Joshua Poldark and Jud working the fields flickered across his memory. He frowned. _I wish he were here now. I could use his counsel_. “I suppose I want to make certain his loyalty to the family and all his years of service are honoured.”

“He don’t like me much,” Demelza said, shifting her gaze to the ground before sending a flickering glance back at Ross. He noticed some of the pleasure of a moment ago had dimmed. “I don’t reckon he’ll be much in favour of your plans, Ross.”

The use of the words “your plans” did not escape unnoticed. He reached out to touch her shoulder and bring her forward progress to a halt, then faced her, square on. “It’s something I’ve considered, Demelza.” He paused, raising his hand to touch her cheek. The softness and warmth under his fingertips made him yearn to kiss it. The concern and outright fear he saw in her eyes steeled his resolve. “I will not tolerate disrespect towards the woman I intend to make mistress of Nampara, be they servant or high-borne. You have my word on that. And you will let me know if anything of the sort ever happens.” His eyes searched hers. “Will you promise to do that for me?”

She gave him an almost indiscernible nod. “Yes, Ross.” He was pleased to hear her gain confidence in using his given name. He then felt the fingers of her hand press on his arm and was surprised at the effect it had upon him. “Ross, I don’t want to be a burden to you. I knew what could happen when I came to you last night.” She blushed a pretty pink to rival the dusky clouds in the sky and he felt his pulse beat heavily in his veins. “I wanted it to happen.”

He was pleased that she’d kept his gaze in hers at her admission. A glimmer of the woman from the night before stood before him now. “I know,” he said, feeling the corner of his mouth curl up in a grin. “And a part of me wanted it to happen, too. I found myself wondering, ‘Who is this woman, standing before me?’” He remembered feeling as if he were someone who had adopted a tiger cub without knowing what it would grow into. And the memories that followed only stirred the embers to flashpoint. “You were bold and fearless—”

“—Fearless?” she said with a snort which made Ross laugh out loud. “I was shaking clear down to my toes, Ross Poldark!”

“You were _not_ the girl I brought home three years ago, that much was certain,” he said with a light chuckle before he paused, shaking himself from the memory. He feared his smile had grown into something one would find on the face of a besotted schoolboy. _This will not do._ He cleared his throat. “What it clear is that we both wanted it to happen, otherwise we wouldn’t have done. And although I spent the better part of the day trying to forget that it did, I found that I cannot.” He touched her cheek. “And I do not.” He was pleased to see a smile light her eyes. “But the events of last night come with responsibility.” He paused for a moment. “You could, at this moment, be carrying my child,” he said softly. “Had you thought about that?”

He watched the colour in her cheeks fade. It was clear she had not. She shook her head violently. “It—it takes more than that,” she said, and he heard the panic on the edge of her voice.

“Although it can take longer for some, once is quite enough. And it happened more than once last night, Demelza, you know that to be true,” he stated, plainly. She nodded and raised her face towards his. The colour had returned to her cheeks in the form of a crimson blush. He watched as she began to worry her bottom lip with her teeth, a habit he’d discovered he’d grown fonder of than he cared to admit. _Focus, Poldark._ “I’ll not want to have any child of mine not know his father.”

“I’ll not be someone’s burden,” she muttered with an obstinate frown furrowing her brow. “I’d rather fend for myself before I’d allow that to happen.”

“Enough now,” he said, hearing exasperation over her stubbornness enter into his voice and he gave her shoulders a small shake. He forced himself to count to five before continuing. “I’m offering you my protection, Demelza,” he said, his tone softer. “The rumours of our relationship – a relationship that, until last night, was not true – they are real, widespread and vicious. Not for me, because that’s not how they work for men. But for you?” He loosened his grip on her shoulders and allowed one hand to cup her elbow, his thumb rubbing along the outside of her arm through her cloak. “Now the circumstances have changed. It will only be a matter of time before what’s changed becomes noticeable.”

He paused, worried if he was about to make things worse. “Elizabeth, for example.” He felt her stiffen at the sound of her name. “You saw it yourself: she knows things have changed between us. While I don’t want to believe she would betray my trust in her by saying anything to anyone, there’s a chance it could happen. There is a chance that _others_ may notice, no matter how hard we try to hide it. And if…” He paused. “ _When_ that happens, Demelza, there’d be no escape for you from them.” He knew he’d not be able to keep away from her, to seek her out, to take comfort in her body, now that he knew. He moved his hand from her elbow to her cheek, cupping it in the palm of his hand, feeling the softness and warmth of her skin. He knew. “And it would make you vulnerable to the worst of kinds of people and situations imaginable. And some far beyond your imaginings.”

“You could send me away, far away from Cornwall,” she said, the beginning of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He restrained himself from kissing them away. Barely.

“Do you want to leave Cornwall?” he said, thickly, and found himself wondering what he would do if she said yes. “To leave Nampara?”

“N—no,” she whispered, and a single tear slid down her cheek. Ross’s thumb brushed it away. _Resolve, be damned,_ he thought to himself, gave in his desires and kissed her. Her lips trembled under his before opening to his own. A surge of heat and need raced through his body as her tongue shyly touched his.

He could not have stopped the deep, rumbling groan that rose up from his chest for all the copper in Cornwall. Several moments later, he lifted his lips from hers to gaze at her upturned face. “Then marry me, Demelza.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Her heart felt as if it were about to burst out of her chest. All of the things he’d said to her, about the rumours, the scandal, the possibility of pregnancy, swirled in her head and made her feel shaky and overwhelmed. Wasn’t he offering the single thing she had sworn never _would_ have been offered to her? Why was she resisting? She knew she could care for his home, for she’d been doing that for years now. And she knew that she could give him a man’s pleasure, and would receive her own as well.

Was it because she knew he didn’t love her? That hadn’t stopped her from offering herself to him less than 24 hours before. Could she marry him, give herself to him freely for the rest of her life, full in the knowledge that he loved another?

And then he’d kissed her boneless.

“Demelza?” Ross’s voice shook her out of her inner debate. His eyes had darkened, his gaze grown in intensity. His left arm still about her waist, he’d stepped back, and was offering his right hand to her. “Will you be my wife?”

Could she? Of course she could. She loved him. It was a simple as that. Decision made, she looked up at him and nodded. “Yes, Ross,” she whispered, before placed her right hand in his. “I will.”

He smiled then, a full, wide smile that made him appear several years younger, before wrapping her in his arms for another kiss. When he lifted his head, Demelza could have sworn the earth spun under her feet at a dizzying pace, and she blinked several times to regain focus in her eyes. Ross turned and grabbed Darkie’s reins and swung up into the saddle, reaching his hand down to assist her up into the saddle in front of him. With a click of his tongue and a tap of his heels, Darkie began the trip back to Nampara.

Their pace was slow along the cliffs of Ross’s land. She found herself nestled up against his chest, his arms draped around her, his hands holding the horse’s reins loosely in her lap. The rhythm of the horse’s movements, however, were not helping her in the least. Rocking back and forth against him in the saddle brought up memories of their night together… made her wish for his hands on her body… made her wonder about the possibilities…

 _Judas, how long would it take to get there? And will I still be able to_ think _when I get there?_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was full dark when they arrived at Nampara. Ross helped Demelza off Darkie’s back and stretched before tying the horse to the hitching post and walking her through the hallway of the house. He picked up one of the lit tapers from the parlour table and handed it to her. “Demelza, please light some candles in the library and set out some wine. I’ll just be a moment.” She nodded, gave him a shy smile and walked towards the library.

Ross returned outside and, untying his horse, walked into the barn to remove her saddle. The horse’s flanks quivered as he brushed her down and he smiled. He’d have to see about getting Demelza her own horse once they were married. It would be appropriate for her, as his wife, to have her own horse to ride. As much as he enjoyed having her hips so close against his, he was the first to admit it was bloody uncomfortable riding double: painful anatomically (for what man would want to have his privates crushed against the back of a saddle for miles at a time) and because of the way the motion of the horse had forced Demelza’s hips to move against his. It had made focusing on the matter at hand _and_ dismounting without embarrassing them both nearly impossible.

Suffice it to say, he’d been grateful for the full panels of his great coat.

He was also grateful for the moments he had putting the horse up for the night, for it gave him time to consider his plans for the next three weeks before he and Demelza could marry. He would need to get started at first light in the morning in order to make sure there was nothing to stand in their way, and he wanted to make sure she understood and agreed with his plans.

He had made one unilateral decision, however: he would not seek the comforts of her bed again until they were man and wife. He’d been deadly serious about the potential for pregnancy. Any suspicions around _that_ topic would ignite a powder keg of scandal that would have harmed her much more than it would have done him, regardless of their marital status. 

There was nothing for it. They would have to wait and hope their one night together did not result in consequences requiring explanation.

Darkie whickered softly and bumped against Ross with her hip. He gave her a flank a good scratch, filled her feed bag with oats and left the barn for the house, stopping at the pump to rinse the smell of horse from his hands.

As he entered the house, he thought he could hear Demelza humming and it made him smile. And promise himself he would dust off that harpsichord for her to learn to play. He hung up his great coat, shrugged out of his suit coat and loosened the cravat at his neck as he walked to the library. He found Demelza seated in one of the armchairs next to the fire, staring off into the flames, the expression on her face unreadable. He suddenly felt uncertain about how to proceed with the business of their marrying, and decided it would be best if he eased into it a bit.

Small talk. He _hated_ small talk.  Shutting the door with an audible click, he cleared his throat. “Jud and Prudy abed?”

Demelza started and snapped her head around in Ross’s direction. “Oh! Oh, yes,” she said, nervously, twisting her fingers into the fabric of her skirts.

Ross set down his coat on the chair behind his desk, reached for the bottle of wine from the end table with one hand and captured two glasses between the fingers of the other. “Would you join me on the settee, please?” He motioned towards the small couch directly across from the fireplace with a twitch of his brows. She nodded silently and joined him. The size of the couch meant they would be seated very close to one another, their knees touching. He silently poured them both a glass of wine and, setting the bottle down, offered her a glass. She accepted, and he realized this was the first time they’d shared wine with one another and a grin creased his face. He picked up his own glass and lifted it. “To our future together, Demelza.” He lightly tapped the rim of his glass against hers. She smiled and nodded before taking a small sip. “What do you think of the wine?”

She blinked. “It’s very good, R-Ross—JUDAS!” she exclaimed and almost made him spill his glass. “I’m sorry, Ross, I keep stumbling over your name.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. He noticed a pout grace her lower lip and placed his left hand over the small fist she had clenched in her lap. “It’s all right. There have been quite a few changes over the space of a day.” He paused and grew serious. “Now, I’d like to talk with you about the plans we’ll need to make in order for us to marry.”

“What kind of plans be they, Ross?” she asked, and he heard a wariness sneak into her voice.

“First, I will go to Sawle first thing in the morning to meet with the Reverend Hodges to ensure the banns are read as soon as possible.” He glanced up at her and noticed she was biting her bottom lip again. “Is that a problem, Demelza?”

“N—no, Ross,” she said, her brow furrowing, “it’s just, once that’s done, all will know.”

“It can’t be helped,” he said with a sigh. “But it will make our intentions very clear and help to diminish _some_ of the talk around town. The other option would be to apply for a special license, but that might raise more questions and issues than having the banns read.” He rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand. She raised her eyes to him, confusion and concern swimming in their clear green irises. He gave himself a mental shake. “Shall we proceed with the banns, Demelza?”

She gave a short nod. “Yes, Ross.”

“That means we will marry on...” He paused to do the mathematics in his head. “The 24th of June,” he said, “the afternoon.”

They were silent for a moment, each sipping their wine and looking into the fire. It had been settled, rather matter-of-factly, Ross thought to himself. No fanfare, not even a kiss to seal the arrangement. He reached up with his left hand and tipped her chin up with his finger before lowering his lips to hers. Several moments later, he ended the kiss and sat back, feeling slightly dazed by the experience. Her eyes told him she was struggling under the same malady as he. He cleared his throat. “The 24th of June it will be.”

Rising from the sofa – for he felt he would fare better thinking on his feet than sitting within arm’s reach of her at the moment – he decided to move through the rest of the plans he’d come up with, although he was certain that, if the reading of the banns had caused her anxiety, his next task would make things worse. “Once this is accomplished, we will need to send word to your father—”

“My father?!” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet and setting the glass of wine down on the table with a crack. “Oh, Ross, why do we have to do that?” She moved to stand next to the fireplace and hugged herself around the waist with her arms.

He set his glass down on the mantle, placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Because Prudy told me he’d come to the house yesterday.” Her eyes shot up to meet his own, and the look of fear that shone in them made him feel like going straight to her father’s house and smash his teeth in. 1…2…3…4…5… “Can you tell me what happened?”

She did, haltingly. When she reached the part when he’d threatened to return the next day to remove her from Nampara because of the rumours of impropriety between them, he swore under his breath. “I’ve a mind to go finish what I started three years ago.”

“Ross, please promise me you won’t,” Demelza cried, her fingers gripping his arm, and he could feel her nails bite into his skin.

He ran the fingers of his left hand through his hair and scowled. “Of course I won’t,” he reassured her, rubbing her upper arm. “But he still needs to be informed.” He considered for a moment. “I will send Jud to Illogan with a message.”

“Jud?” she gasped. “But Ross, I told you he don’t like me much!”

“Precisely the reason why I want him to do it,” Ross said. “Before I send him I will inform with the Paynters of our intentions to marry. They will be given two hours to consider their future employment at Nampara should they choose to level any sign of disrespect towards you as their new mistress.” He took her hand in his. “And you will tell me if they can’t manage their tongues, yes?” She nodded. “Jud’s attitude and performance of this task will be his first test towards that end.” He gave her hand a squeeze and looked in her eyes. “Will that do, Demelza?”

She nodded. Thank heavens.

Ross reached for his glass and walked over to the bottle of wine, pouring himself a second glass of wine and prepared for the last. “Finally, we will need to make other arrangements for your accommodations.”

Demelza frowned at him. “Whatever for, Ross? I’m perfectly happy on my cot or…” She paused, her cheeks flaming scarlet. “Do you want me to…” Her voice trailed off, clearly embarrassed by her own boldness.

He smiled, a bit grimly. “Not until after we are man and wife.” He downed the last of his wine and poured himself a third glass before refilling Demelza’s. _And no more, for either of us, tonight,_ he thought to himself. He motioned for her to sit once again on the settee. He joined her and took her hand in his.“You remember what I said about consequences, yes?” She nodded. “If we have been lucky, we will not have to worry about it. But if we continue, we will certainly become unlucky,” he said, capturing her gaze in his. _Lord, she had lovely eyes._ “For I could not have you in my bed and not want to lose myself in you as I did last night.”

Demelza’s eyes darkened to the colour of jade. “R-ross,” she said softly, although this time she hadn’t stammered. She’d drawn out the first letter of his name as if to caress his hearing. His skin felt as if it had been jolted by lightning and he went rock hard in an instant. He prayed she would not notice.

He crossed his legs. “Sharing a bed would not help manage Jud and Prudy’s attitudes towards you,” he added. “They would certainly know within days, if they don’t already know.” He squeezed her hand. “So, are we agreed?”

Demelza looked at him through sleepy eyes and nodded. “Yes, Ross.” Again, she said his name in a sensual drawl and made him close his own eyes.

He nodded. “Excellent,” he said and reached for her wine glass, setting both down on the table. He rose to his feet and offered Demelza his hand to help her rise. She placed her hand in his and, on a whim, he leant over it and offered her a kiss on her wrist before raising his head to look into her eyes. “We will sort things out in the morning. Will you be all right for the night?” She nodded. “Then I will wish you a good evening, my dear.” The endearment felt strange on his tongue, but he found the shocked and delighted surprise that streaked across her face enough to make him wish to say it again at his earliest convenience. He turned and walked to the library door before turning to face her. She stood wreathed in candlelight, and the desire to go to her, kiss her, take her was nearly unbearable. “Thank you, Demelza. I can only hope I will make you happy.”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around herself. “Thank you, Ross. I wish you a good night’s sleep and pleasant dreams.”

As Ross made his way up the stairs, he knew that sleep would be elusive, but the memories he carried from the night before would be better than the very best of dreams.


	2. Week One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Ross and Demelza's life during the three weeks that pass while their marriage banns are being read. This follows the events of the first week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Many thanks to those of you who have left comments or kudos for the first chapter -- they are greatly appreciated! There is more evidence of book and television series content blurring in this chapter, with more to come in the rest. I beg your indulgences! Please feel free to leave me your comments and feedback... I am always looking to improve!
> 
> Some of the back story I will incorporate comes from my piece "Then Let it Be True", the third part from my [Discovery series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/303369). Not required reading by any stretch, but I may reference some things from it within the chapters for this. 
> 
> Thank you once again, Winston Graham, for writing such fantastic characters and my many thanks to Sherylyn for the beta!

Saturday, 9th of June:

“Where’ve you been, girl?” Prudy demanded.

Demelza started, nearly dropping the flowers she held in her arms. “Out collectin’, as you can see,” she retorted, walking to the table and setting down the armful of yarrow, tree mallow and scented mayweed. “What’s amiss?”

“Mr. Ross was in here, lookin’ for you,” Prudy snapped. “He set out without naught but an apple to break his fast!”

 _He’s off to Sawle, like he promised_ , Demelza thought to herself and immediately felt awful. She’d hoped to be back in time to wish him luck on his journey. She set about collecting ingredients for one of his favourite quick breads.

Prudy followed Demelza around the room, wringing her hands in her apron. “He said me ‘n Jud were to stay near the house until he got back, because he had something to talk to us about,” she whined. “What could it be?”

Demelza shrugged innocently and set to baking. For the next hour, Prudy proceeded to pepper Demelza with so many nervous questions as she went about her baking that she’d wanted to scream. Finally, Prudy threw up her hands, wailed and raged at her husband, who’d entered the room halfway through the diatribe. He ignored her, sat at the table doing what he did best: muttering and drinking.

“We be ‘bout to be turned ou’ of Nampara after so many 'ears of faithful and dedicated service to the Poldark family, all because of you,” she spat at Jud.

“Quit your blatherin’, woman,” Jud replied, pouring himself more rum from the bottle on the table.

The din grew to the point where Demelza, who had finished the bread and placed it on the sill to cool, gathered her laundry basket and went down the front hallway. She was just reaching for the door latch when Ross came through the door. He gave her a long look and flash of a smile before continuing into the room. Demelza set the basket down and quickly followed him, finding him standing near the kitchen table and scowling at the Paynters.

“I could hear you all the way in the lower pasture, Prudy,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “What appears to be amiss?”

“Well…Mister Ross, sir,” she stammered, “we were wonderin’ why you wanted me ‘n Jud to stay in today. There’s all kinds of work to be done—”

“—Which,” he interrupted, “depending upon what happens during the next few moments, you will do as soon as we finish here.” He glowered at them both. “I need to speak with you both. Join us in the library.”

Demelza wondered if either Jud or Prudy had caught the use of the term “us”. She _did_ notice their attention shift to her as Ross extended his hand to usher his kitchen maid through to the room ahead of him. _Oh dear…_ She wished she were anywhere else in the county than standing in the Nampara kitchen at that moment.  He arched one full, black brow at her as though reading her thoughts. She sighed, walked into the room and stood in front of the fireplace. The Paynters shuffled in after her and stood, nervous and shifting on their feet as Ross swung around them to stand next to Demelza in front of the fire. _Oh dear, oh dear…_

“Demelza has consented to be my wife,” Ross said, matter-of-factly. “We will be married on the 24th of June.” Demelza watched as both of the Paynters blinked owlishly at Ross, then her, then back at Ross.

“Yer _wife_ , Mister Ross, sir?” Prudy simpered, her lips pursed in what looked to be disapproval.

“My wife,” Ross declared, crossing his arms over his chest. “As in, Mistress of Nampara.”

“T’aint right, t’aint good, t’aint fit, t’aint proper,” Jud slurred, casting a watery glance in Demelza’s direction. _He has the meanest little eyes,_ she thought to herself.

“I am not particularly concerned if you find the situation to be right, good, fit or proper, Jud,” Ross stated. “From this moment on, _any_ mistreatment of or disrespect given to Demelza by either of you will result in your immediate dismissal from Nampara and any of the Poldark lands under my protection. If you cannot abide with the change in circumstances, you will be given a month’s wages and be ordered from the property. At once.”

The Paynters gawped at Ross and Demelza like toads. She thought it would have been quite funny if she hadn’t been so scared.

“You have the next hour to consider your decision, at which point I expect an answer,” Ross finished. He uncrossed his arms, cupped Demelza’s elbow with his hand and led her from the room, closing the door behind them with a snap. They came to a halt at the kitchen table, standing in silence for a moment before speaking at the same time.

“Can I get you anythi—”

“Arrangements have been—”

They both stopped and laughed, Demelza smiling up into Ross’s face, which was alight with humour. “I’m sorry, Ross, go on while I fetch you something to eat. Prudy said you’d had naught but an apple before you left.”

“Thank you, Demelza.” Ross touched her upper arm and nodded before moving to the table and taking a seat.

She served him some tea and the bread she’d made and sat opposite him. “How was your morning, Ross?” She’d practiced saying his name over and over again so she wouldn’t stumble over it.

The look he gave her over the top of the teacup made her stomach flutter. And elsewhere.

“Arrangements for the banns have been seen to,” he said, chewing the bread with a slowness that let her know he liked it. “And I have asked to have Reverend Hodges perform the ceremony an hour after services have concluded on the 24th.”

Demelza felt her cheeks grow warm and looked down at her clasped hands, resting on the table between them. His touch upon them made her flick her eyes back up to his face, and she was surprised to see the look of concern that shaded his eyes.

“Should I have checked with you before setting the time, my dear?”

“Oh no, Ross,” she said, feeling her pulse quicken at the endearment. “I was just thinking that it somehow made everything seem more real.”

“The bell has been rung, so to speak,” he said with a chuckle before popping the last of the bread in his mouth. “Were you able to move your belongings to your new accommodations?”

She shook her head. “No, Ross, not yet. I wanted to wait until after Jud and Prudy were told. That way there’d be fewer questions about me rummaging around in there.”

He nodded. “Yes, yes, of course. Good thinking, Demelza.”

She smiled. “I’ll tend to it after I take care of the laundry I missed yesterday.” She watched the laughter in his eyes slide away, back to the look of concern and blushed, for she knew what he was about to say. “Thank you for tending to—”

“—Demelza, if there’d been any other way,” he murmured and his hand squeeze hers. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

The bloodstain on his bed sheet had been another reminder of what had passed between them, and while she’d been flustered with embarrassment – how he must have reacted when he’d seen it – she found that her embarrassment was quickly replaced by the memory of the moment it had happened: not only the pain, but the overwhelming pleasure and intimacy that followed, and it had made her shiver with want.

She smiled reassuringly at him. “It will be seen to, Ross.”

He gave her hand a stroke with his thumb before he reached for another piece of bread, offering her half. “I am going to Truro Monday morning. Please let me know if there is anything you need for your new accommodations and I can make arrangements.”

“I will, Ross, thank you,” she said. She popped a piece of the bread into her mouth and enjoyed the companionable silence shared with Ross.

Moments later, the Paynters exited the library and muttered their agreement. Jud was sent to Illogan shortly thereafter with a message for Demelza’s father. Prudy was sent to tend to the livestock. Ross gave Demelza a brief kiss on the cheek before retreating to the library. She picked up her laundry basket and attended to the bed linens. It took a little time and extra effort, but she was pleased to see the stain was nowhere to be seen. She hung them to dry and went into the house to move her belongings into her new room.

She didn’t have much in the way of possessions, but she found homes for the things she’d grown to cherish during her time at Nampara: the hairbrush and comb she’d received from Ross on her first Christmas in his household, the scarves she’d made out of remnant materials he’d brought home one day. The blue glass bottle she’d found on one of her rambles and all of the sea shells she’d found while playing with Garrick in the surf. She hung up her extra dress in the cupboard and her night rail on the hook behind the door.

She’d sneaked a small crock from the kitchen to hold flowers, so she set it on the night table and then tucked some daisies into it. She surveyed her handiwork with a grin. The small, simple room, with a comfortable double bed and a small desk by the window, was beginning to look like hers.

Ross had told her it had been his childhood room. The thought made her wonder what he’d been like as a lad: dark-haired and serious or filled with mischief? She thought it would have been a combination of both. These thoughts had led her to consider one of the topics of discussion from the night before: the possibility of pregnancy.

Demelza had lived on farms most of her life, and knew how animals were bred. How she’d failed to make the same connection between that and what passed between her and Ross the night before last was astonishing. It had forced her to admit she _hadn’t_ been focused on _all_ the implications of her decision in the moment; the distraction of Ross’s hands and mouth on her body had been enough to drive any rational thought out of her head.

Whether that was a consequence they would have to face was still unknown and – by her calculations – would remain so for several more days yet; however, the wheels had been set into motion that _would_ make him the father of any children she might ever have. Rather than causing a panic in her blood, as it had last night, she’d found herself almost hoping the possibility would be realized. An image of a child with his father’s eyes formed in her mind with such force that she felt the need to sit down. She felt heat pool between her legs, could feel the pulse in her groin and the need for him rose up within her like a flame. _Judas, was this what it was to be love sick?_ She’d not known it was possible to experience such a yearning for him before and now it was all she could think about. Well, she knew she’d have to think of _something_ else if she were to get any of her chores accomplished.

 _Or make it through the three weeks with my sanity intact_ , she thought to herself.

She was interrupted by a swift knock on the door. She opened it and came up short. Ross stood on the other side, dressed in his great coat, his tricorn hat fitting low on his head, and framing his changeable eyes. In the gloom of the hallway they appeared to be mossy green, her favourite. The top button of his shirt was opened to reveal the smooth muscles of his neck and upper chest. It was as if she’d summoned him through some kind of sorcery. It was all very, very distracting.

She stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. It seemed like a wise thing to do.

“Demelza, I am going to the mine. Jud will not be back from your father’s for several hours. I will be back long before then.” He brushed his finger down her cheek. “Try not to fret.”

“Yes, Ross,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip, “I’ll try.”  She noticed his eyes darken just before he bent his head and kissed her. Her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt, the tips sliding through the open collar to encounter the crisp, black hairs that covered his chest. A purr rose up in her throat. He stood back almost at once, the eyes now almost black at pitch. He squeezed them tight, before opening them in an exaggerated blink. He plucked the hat off his head with his right hand and ran the fingers of his left through his hair and gave her a look that could only be described as predatory.

“Do you know you bite your bottom lip when you’re worried?” he drawled, his voice dark and soft to her ears. Just as it had been the night before last.

She shivered. “N-no, Ross, I didn’t,” she whispered.

He put the hat back on, shadowing his eyes. “It’s distracting,” he said before turning on his heel and heading down the stairs.

 _Twenty-one more days of this ahead, but who’s counting?_ She blew out a sigh before finding her own way downstairs.

Wednesday, 13th of June

“Dammit,” Ross exclaimed and threw the parchment into the bonfire next to the mine office. He’d received a summons from his uncle and cousin “to discuss the rumours immediately” when he’d exited the shaft. He’d already put in a fourteen-hour day and felt every ache and pain of it. Eight hours in the hay field, where he’d finished the threshing and bundled Lord knows how many bushels to dry for market. Another six hours at the mine in the shaft with Paul, Zacky and Mark. All he wanted to do was to go home, have a meal with Demelza and take some brandy to his bedchamber. Instead, he’d sent word to Nampara, mounted Darkie and rode straight to Trenwith.

The conversation had not gone well. When Charles had tired, Francis would pick up the flag to carry on. What could he have been thinking? Did he not care about the family name? He would be cast aside from polite society! This was just more evidence of his rash, impulsive, decision-making…completely inexcusable… the list went on and on. It was only when his uncle began levelling insinuations about Demelza’s character that he’d finally had enough. He remembered his uncle’s words with crystalline clarity.

_“It’s natural for a man to look for a little piece of comfort from time to time, Ross,” Charles said with a wave of his hand. “Your father was well known for being a libertine within the county. No idea how he managed not to leave a string of bastards in his wake. But even after your mother died, he never considered doing something as asinine as marrying one of the trulls he’d lain with.” He took a swig of brandy and belched indelicately. “Did the girl tell you she’s carrying your brat, boy? Is that why you feel so honour-bound to wed her? Are you sure the bastard’s even yours—”_

_“—You go too far, sir,” Ross growled, his nostrils flaring with rage. He surged to his feet, the force of the movement knocking the chair against the side table and sending his brandy snifter to the ground with a crash. He strode over to his uncle, who’d paled considerably at his approach._

_“See here, Ross,” Francis said, placing a hand on Ross’s chest. Ross swatted the hand away, causing Francis to stumble hard against the granite mantelpiece above the fireplace._

_“You may think whatever you like about me, sir,” Ross snarled not more than an inch from his uncle’s sweating face. “You will_ not _, however, speak another ill word against Demelza. If you cannot manage to maintain a civil tongue about her you may consider my attachment to this family at its end.”_

_“Ross, don’t be hasty,” Francis said, alarmed. “We only have your best interests at hear—”_

_“—Do_ not _make me laugh, Francis,” Ross said with a snort of derision. “You are only concerned about what this ‘scandal’ will do to your_ own _reputation. I do not care in the least.”_

 _“You_ should _care, boy,” Charles spluttered, having regained some of his composure, “if for no other reason than the future of your business! Do you think you will be able to continue to call upon the members of Cornwall society for investment once they learn you have taken your_ scullery maid _as your wife? It will only serve to harm all of the miners whom you_ claim _to hold in such high esteem! Much higher than your own family, for that matter!”_

_He looked at the two of them, disgust causing him to taste his own bile. “We are finished here.” And he quit the room without a backwards glance._

_He stormed through the dining hall, slamming his hat down on top of his head and putting on his coat in jerky movements. He was almost to the front door when Elizabeth came out of the shadows, white-faced and trembling. “So what have you to say about all this?” he spat at her._

_“I_ knew _it,” she said, her eyes narrowing at him. The dark grey irises made her eyes appear cold and shrewish, something he’d never been able to say about them before. “Knew it from the moment I saw the two of you together last week. Her with her silly flowers, and you not being able to look_ either _of us in the eye. How could you, Ross?”_

_“What does it matter to you, Elizabeth?” he said, suddenly feeling bone weary from it all. He looked her squarely in the eye. “I have grown tired of the smiles and the games we have played. It’s far past time I moved forward with my life, and it is one that will be best served well apart from you. Goodbye.”_

With that, he’d stormed out of the manor, thrown himself onto Darkie’s saddle and rode like hell towards Nampara, eager to put as much space as he could between him and the Poldarks of Trenwith.

It was 11 o’clock when he entered the yard. He saw to Darkie’s care for the night, and then crossed the yard to the front door, quietly turning the latch and entering the darkened hallway before bolting the door for the night. He walked on tiptoe and reached the parlour, where he found a short note on the table next to a single lit taper and a cornflower. He picked up the note, smiling what felt like the first smile of his life at her carefully formed letters, simply written on a piece of parchment.

_Dear Ross,_  
_Brandee and apple tart in the libry fer you. Sleep wel._  
_Love,_  
_D_  
_P.S. Ther be no child to fret about._

The smile on his face fell, only to be replaced with bitter disappointment. Not because he’d been looking forward to becoming a father so soon after deciding on marrying Demelza ( _or was I?_ a voice whispered in his head), but because he hadn’t been here for her to talk to about it, face to face, when she’d discovered the news. He folded the note carefully, tucked it in the lining of his hat and walked in to the library.

An hour passed, and Ross frowned at the numbers in front of him. He was seated at his desk, reviewing the week’s reports from the mine, and the news was not good. While the team continued to make good progress on the shafts, there had been very little signs of copper within the tons of ironstone removed. _Just enough to keep going, not enough to stop,_ he thought to himself. Continuing would require gunpowder: expensive and dangerous. But what was the alternative? Hand chiselling would take much more time, which would tie up even more capital in the long run.

He jotted down some notes to review with Henshaw in the morning and rose to his feet with a groan before checking his pocket watch. It was well after midnight and the morning would be upon him soon, but as tired as he was, he could not stop thinking of Demelza. _What must she be thinking_? he wondered. _Was she worried that I would cast her aside, now that the fear of pregnancy had been eliminated?_ He assessed his own feelings on the matter: now that the sense of urgency had passed, did he wish to call off the arrangement? Doing so would be inordinately messy and fraught with more scandal. Demelza would appear to have been jilted, regardless of the fact that their reasons for marrying had not been specifically stated to all and sundry. It would be implied, the damage to her reputation assured.

He pictured her face, the devastation that he knew she would do her very best to hide, and swore under his breath. Of course he did not wish to call off their arrangement. The truth of the matter was, given his circumstances – a poor country squire – she would have been a perfectly acceptable woman for him to marry, _if_ she’d been the daughter of one of the villagers and hadn’t all but grown up in his house and first served him as his kitchen maid.

She’d grown into his life in ways he hadn’t imagined possible when he’d first found her at the Redruth Fair. Part of her had been his friend, his companion, his partner in the hard labours required to run a country farm. It was this part of her that he’d come to rely upon. He was still trying to find space for this _new_ part of her, the part he’d encountered less than a week before, within his world: woman, seductress, bold, earthy, and immeasurably desirable. He found that losing either one would be unacceptable.

He raised his head at the sound of the door opening. There she stood, still dressed, but tousled, as if she’d lain down while waiting for his return. Child? Friend? Lover? Or all?

“Demelza, what are you doing still awake?” he said, walking around the desk and opening the door wider.

“I tried to wait up for you, but must have dozed off, Ross,” she said quietly. She’d drawn out the first letter of his name once again, and his grip tightened on the doorknob in response. She walked into the room and took a seat near the fire. “Did you get my note?”

She turned her face to meet his. He looked at her then, saw the tears swimming in her eyes and strode to her chair, hauling her up against him in a tight embrace. He felt her arms clasp him around his waist as her tears fell, dampening the front of his shirt. He bent his head and smelled the flowers and sunlight that always seemed to cling to her hair. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” he whispered brokenly in the shell curve of her ear. He felt her body shiver and held her tighter, hoping to warm her with the heat from his body, wishing he could do so much more.

“Oh Ross, you sh-should be h-happy about this,” she said, her voice hiccupping with sobs. “It m-means you don’t h-have to marry m-me!”

“That’s nonsense,” he said, pressing kisses along her hairline. “I’ve not changed my mind about anything, Demelza.” He leaned back, bracketing her face with his hands, the pads of his thumbs wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks. “You and I will marry on the 24th.” He bent his head to kiss lips tasting of salt and her. He could never get enough of her. Several minutes later, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. He could see a mutinous furrow appear upon her brow despite her tears, and he raised an eyebrow of his own. “Now, I don’t want to argue about this tonight,” he said softly, kissing her lids closed before leaning back to look at her. “I want you to rest assured nothing you’ve told me tonight will change my plans for us. Do you understand?”

She opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes, Ross.” She raised a hand to wipe away at her tears with her sleeve, which made him smile.

 _Friend? Child? Lover?_ All.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post script: I have a notoriously black thumb when it comes to plants, so I stay very far away from gardening. But I have a passion for flowers, as long as they are cut and only require a bit of water now and then to enjoy them for as long as they last. I’ve adored Demelza’s love for flowers, and found this website that features many different varieties of flowers, all native to Cornwall. I’ve gotta do my research! [Flowers of Cornwall](http://www.carolscornwall.com/Plants%20Lichens%20and%20Fungi/wild-flower-index.html)
> 
> And, furthering the blending of book and television adaptation source material, I’ve paraphrased another bit from Winston Graham’s first novel Poldark during a portion of Ross’s POV section above, specifically where he reflects on how Demelza had grown into his life comes from the books. An excerpt can be found on The Winston Graham Facebook page [here](https://www.facebook.com/WinstonGrahamAuthorOfPoldarkAndSoMuchMore/posts/1647141265514410).


	3. Week Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Ross and Demelza's life during the three weeks that pass while their marriage banns are being read. This covers some of the events occurring during the second week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This story picks up from the end of Episode 1:3 of the Poldark 2015 series. Some of what I have incorporated comes my [Discovery series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/303369). Not required reading by any stretch, but I may reference some things from it within the chapters for this. 
> 
> The events in this chapter have come completely from my own head, although I've done my very best to keep the voices of the characters true to the way they are represented in canon. I beg your indulgence for any errors I may have made. And there is a section that is a bit more steamy than previous chapters. Not quite at the point where I'll have to change the rating, but that's coming with Chapter 4. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave me your comments and feedback... I am always looking to improve! And many thanks to those of you who have left comments so far -- it's been a delight to hear from you and get to know you a bit! 
> 
> Thank you, Winston Graham, for writing such fantastic characters and my many thanks to Sherylyn for the beta!

Saturday, 16th of June

“Delicious, Demelza.” Ross grinned up at Demelza, his cheeks filled with the last of the fried pork and potatoes she’d made for breakfast. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Ross,” she said, grinning so hard her cheeks ached. Several months earlier, she’d discovered she loved – and was naturally talented at – cooking. She’d had Jud and Prudy to thank for that, since she’d only started cooking after Prudy had injured her wrist wrestling with Jud in the middle of the kitchen. The fact that Ross appreciated her skills in the kitchen was the cream on the cake of her enjoyment.

She had begun to tidy the table when Ross touched her hand and drew her down to sit next to him on the bench seat.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” he asked softly.

She looked at him, slightly confused. “I be fine, Ross,” she said hesitantly. “Why are you asking?”

“It is market day and I wish for you to accompany me to town, for reasons that will become clear,” he said. “It will require you to be away from Nampara for most of the afternoon. Will that be all right?”

She blinked at him. _What on earth was he talking about?_ she wondered to herself.

“You were… indisposed most of the day yesterday,” he all but whispered, then frowned. “Dammit, Demelza, I do not know how to ask you this without being glaringly obvious, which I do not wish to do.”

Light dawned. She blushed furiously. “Yes, yes, of course, I am able to accompany you, Ross.”

He flicked a glance up into her eyes, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “Excellent, excellent.” He rose to his feet. “We will leave in five minutes.”

She watched his retreating back with a mixture of mortification and hilarity. The poor man had actually inquired about her flux! Judas, she’d wanted to die on the spot when she finally realized what he was asking about. Once she’d recovered from her own embarrassment, her heart had gone out to him. It was clear that despite living under the same roof for the past three years, there were still many things they would need to learn about the other once they were married. It was unfortunate that _this_ had to be one of their first lessons!

And she was, indeed, fine. She’d never been hampered with too difficult a time of it. One day, every few months perhaps, and yesterday just so happened to have been one of those times. A pot of tea, heavily laced with brandy, and a light supper was all that was required. She’d risen that morning, right as rain.

She went up to her room to change into her burgundy day dress and tided her hair before heading to the front hall for her cloak. She was hooking the garment round her throat as Ross came through the door, riding crop in hand. Upon seeing her, she noticed his cheeks turned ruddy once again. She rolled her eyes. “Ross, I’m fine, it’s done, all is well.”

He nodded once. “I imagine I have quite a bit to learn once we are married.”

“I had the same thought just a moment ago!” she said with a laugh before smiling up into his eyes. “We will learn together.” She took his proffered arm and they left the house.

The uncomfortable conversation over, the intimacy it had surfaced lingered on during the ninety-minute ride into Truro. Demelza found the experience of riding double with Ross just as difficult as the last time it had happened: the night of the proposal. The feel of his arms around her waist, the heat of his body behind hers radiating through her cloak, the gentle rocking motion all set her thoughts to racing back to their single night together. And despite the lingering ache in her lower back, she found by the time they’d arrived in Truro that she’d reached a state of agitation that had been hard to disguise.

Ross was glowering when he swung down from the saddle and reached up to assist her. “Demelza,” he said moodily, “you have been fidgeting in the saddle for the last thirty minutes of our journey here. Whatever is the matter, my dear?”

She ignored the endearment and frowned up at him. “If you must know, Ross, I find it uncomfortable riding double for such long distances.” She felt the colour rise in her cheeks and bit her bottom lip.

His grip on her upper arm intensified and he eyed her through the thick fringe of his lashes. “Uncomfortable?” he said, leaning close to her ear. “I’ve just spent the last hour and a half being teased by the softness of your backside, my dear. Did you ever think how I must have felt?”

Her eyes widened. She glanced down and saw the evidence of his discomfort. She was convinced her face must be as red as a well-cooked crab. “Oh, Ross, I thought it were just me! The ride was…well…very—”

“—Distracting?” he interrupted, the stern set of his eyebrows contradicting the devilish sparkle that lit his eyes. “When it comes to you, Demelza Carne, ‘distracting’ is a word that has been granted permanent residence in my vocabulary. It sounds like a word you should familiarize yourself with as you practice your letters and reading over the next fortnight.” He adjusted his great coat and cleared his throat. “That said, we have come here today in the hopes of remedying the situation.” He gathered Darkie’s reins and ushered her and the horse around the side of the town stables towards a sizable pen containing several horses. “Good day, Mr. Garrison,” he called out to a plump, grey-haired man standing next to the stable.

“Good day to you, Captain Poldark,” Garrison said with lips curled around his pipe. “Stable Darkie for you today?”

“Yes, thank you, sir,” he handed Darkie’s reins to the man. “We will only be a few hours, so keeping her here in the outer stable will be fine.” He motioned to Demelza, who had slowly grown more confused as the small talk went on. “This is my intended, Demelza Carne of Illogan. We are in need of a horse and proper tack for her.”

Demelza blinked up at Ross, who was smiling down into her eyes. “A horse? For me, Ross?”

“Yes, a horse for you,” he said, patting the hand she’d tucked into the crook of his arm. He turned his attention back to Garrison. “We’re looking for a mare, about fourteen hands high with an easy-going temperament. Do you happen to have such a horse in your stock at present?”

Garrison nodded and pointed to a pretty chestnut horse a fair ways into the stable. “She arrived just two days ago, from a drover down near Plymouth. About six years old, so if you wished to breed her she’ll give you good, sturdy stock. Gentle, too. I’ll settle Darkie and bring her to you shortly.” The man walked off, talking sweetly to Darkie who followed behind him, at ease.

Demelza turned to look back up at Ross. “How long have you been planning this, sir?”

He arched a brow and gave her one of the slow grins she loved so much. “Since the last time we rode double.” Her eyes widened and she laughed out loud, which startled some of the horses.

The horse, which had gone by the name Rose, was a beauty with two white socks on her forelegs and a white star peeking from under her black forelock. She turned out to be a perfect match in size and temperament for her new mistress. Demelza had clapped her hands when Ross and Garrison shook on the deal and had nearly thrown her arms around Ross to hug him when she caught herself before doing so. A gentle squeeze of the arm and a murmured, “thank you,” would have to do. _For now_ , she thought to herself.

They left Garrison with the task of getting the tack prepared for Demelza’s first ride and walked over to the same dressmaker’s shop where she had received her cloak. She was completely baffled until Ross instructed the dressmaker that she was to fit Demelza with two morning dresses, suitable to entertaining but sturdy enough for daily use, and whatever else was needed. He then gave her hand a swift kiss before leaving her to meet with his banker, Harris Pasco, for the next hour.

Demelza looked down at her day gown and had to acknowledge it had grown too short and was showing signs of wear and tear. The new dresses would be simple by design, but feature fuller, longer skirts and longer sleeves. By the time Ross returned, she’d been spun around, measured, pinned countless number of times and overwhelmed with fabrics. She’d finally settled on two: one of a sunny yellow with tiny embroidered ribbons and another the colour of the port she’d often served Ross after his dinner. The latter would be sent to the house within the week.

 _Just in time for the wedding,_ she thought to herself and smiled.

_~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~_

Ross made a conscious effort not to check his pocket watch as they passed Wheal Leisure. The trip from Truro back to Nampara had taken them an extra hour more than he’d anticipated that morning and he’d missed the start of a meeting with Henshaw. The extra time was required due to the fact that it was the first time Demelza had ridden side-saddle, and was not doing as well as he’d hoped. He chided himself for failing to anticipate this situation, but there was naught to be done. He did his best to be patient and encouraging, and had come to her assistance on the two occasions she’d overbalanced and nearly tumbled from the saddle.

The extra time had given him the chance reflect on what was – for all intents and purposes – their first trip into town following their betrothal. He’d seen some of the stares and pointed glances they’d received as they maneuvered their way through the streets, heard the whispered comments just loud enough to pick out bits and pieces: “…been in his house for three years…shameful behaviour…must have got her into trouble…” The worst had been the two women near the clockmakers who had said, “…with her red hair and bold gaze, much like one of those trulls who frequent the Dancing Boar Inn…” It had taken everything within him to keep from confronting them, but he felt it would be best to return to the stables directly, rather than stop by the Red Lion for some supper before heading for home.

He hadn’t failed to notice she’d appeared to be somewhat withdrawn when they’d returned to the stables to begin their journey home, and she’d been uncharacteristically quiet – aside from the occasional outburst resulting from the side saddle experience – the entire way home. There’d been no humming or singing, and he’d found he’d missed it, immeasurably. He wondered if she’d overheard the comments as well, and the thought worried him. More than he’d thought it would.

By the time they were cantering up the road to the gate, she’d grown so withdrawn and preoccupied it was clear she’d not noticed the gate in front of her. Fear lodged in his throat. “Demelza!” he shouted, “Rein in before you crash into the gate, woman!”

She jumped in her saddle, pulling back on the reins in a violent motion. That, in combination with Ross’s shout, caused her horse to throw her head back with a whinny and rear up in fright. He watched as Demelza scrabbled at the top pommel of the saddle for purchase but knew that it was no use: she was falling.

She screamed in terror. Ross surged forward on Darkie and swung up on Rose’s right flank, snaring Demelza firmly around her waist. He hauled her up and out of the saddle to join him on Darkie’s back. The grip she had around his chest to his back was strong, stronger than he’d imagined her being, and he was glad of it for he was focusing all of his attention on the two horses. He struggled with Rose’s reins, praying he’d not take them both off Darkie’s back. Fortunately, the big horse held firm, solid as granite, and the crisis soon passed.

Demelza’s trembling was violent and he clung to her, feeling the wild beating of her heart against his. It was several moments before either of them said anything, the only sound along the lane being the nervous whickering from the horses and the ragged breathing of their two riders.

Finally, Ross felt he could trust himself to speak. “My dear, are you all right?” he whispered in Demelza’s ear. She weakly nodded her head. “Do you think you could stand for a moment until I can join you?”

She nodded again, this time with a little more assurance. He slid her down to the ground and quickly dismounted before her knees went out from under her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body wracked with tremors of shock. He slid his arms under her cloak to wrap around her, pressing her tight against him. In that moment, the adrenaline surging through his veins intensified all of his senses, amplifying the scent of her hair, the feel of her body and the need he felt for her. He leaned back at the waist, took her face in his hands and brought his mouth down upon hers.

The kiss was ferocious, driven by the fear of the moment and fed by all of the passion that had been caged since their single night together more than a week before. Their tongues warred with one another, and he growled low in his throat. His fingers ploughed into her hair, sending scarf and hairpins scattering to the ground. Her hands shifted from his neck to slide underneath the open front of his coat, the nails of her fingers scoring his back through his waistcoat and shirt. Her hands slid further down, reaching his lower back and he felt his hips flex, pressing against hers. She responded in kind, her hips rising to meet his, and moaned, and its purring vibrations through their tongues was almost his undoing. Someone had to have sense in this situation. He wrenched his mouth away from hers to bury his face in her hair. Her ragged, breathy protests filled his ears and he willed himself to take a step back from her, resolved to call a halt to proceedings with immediate effect.

The sight that met him nearly incinerated that resolve to ash. Her hair formed a red-gold nimbus around her face, her eyes the colour of a storm at sea, drugged with passion and desire. Her breath came in pants through her partially open mouth, their lips swollen from their kiss. And she was radiant with colour from her cheeks, down her neck where her pulse beat furiously, all the way down to the crests of her breasts. He took a deep breath, then a second before he closed his eyes and took another step backwards, until they stood only joined by their hands. “Demelza, my girl, you fair scared the life out of me,” he whispered, not trusting his own voice.

“Judas,” Demelza all but moaned, “I don’t expect I’ve ever been so scared, Ross.” She shivered and he stepped forward to take her into his arms once again. This time, their embrace was soft, easy and comforting. “I _hate_ that blasted side-saddle!”

He rested his cheek against her head and smiled. “I never should have had us attempt to ride all the way back here your first time on it,” he said, shifting his lips to brush a kiss on her temple. “I’d wanted to surprise you with the horse and look what almost happened!”

She moved in his arms so she could look up into his face. “The surprise was wondrous, Ross, I’ll not forget it, ever,” she said, laying a hand on his cheek. “It was my fault. I was thinking on things and not paying attention as I ought.”

He could feel a furrow forming on his brow. “What could have had your mind so occupied as to almost get you killed, Demelza?” he said, the earlier tenderness in his voice diminished. He was pleased to be sounding more like his usual self, more in control than the man who’d inhabited his skin mere moments ago.

“It was nothin’, Ross—” she said.

“—It had to be more than nothing, Demelza,” Ross insisted, doing everything he could to keep his tone as even and conciliatory as possible. It was _not_ a simple thing to do. “Now, please, be honest with me.”

She glanced up into his eyes before looking away once again, her teeth coming out to worry her bottom lip again. Ross gritted his own teeth and prayed for patience and resolve. “It were…it were…”

“Yes, my girl,” he urged.

She finally raised her eyes and fixed him with a troubled gaze. “It were the talk, Sss—Ross,” she said, catching herself before she’d called him “sir”, something he’d noticed she would do when she was nervous or startled. “I heard the ladies near the clockmaker’s say something foul about me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment before reaching up to remove his hat and give his head a good scratch before returning it to his head. “I was afraid of that,” he said, the strain of the afternoon’s events audible in his voice.

“I heard some of the talk…before,” she said, raising her eyes to his, her cheeks turning a beguiling rose, “but I never paid it any mind, because I knowed it weren’t true. But now?” A furrow formed along her fair brow and it took all he had not to try to smooth it away with his thumb. “Now it’s hard not to take it to heart.”

Ross repressed the desire to thrash all of the gossip-mongering people of Truro into a powder. He’d had years – a lifetime – to develop the thick skin required to stave off the insults often made about his own character. Demelza had only a few days to do so. And the comments about her had been much worse than anything he’d heard about himself, just as he’d anticipated. “Demelza, I am so very sorry to have placed you in that situation today,” he said, taking one of her hands in his. “I should have waited until after we were married to take you to town, _not_ because I am ashamed of you,” he added for emphasis. “As my future wife, it’s my responsibility to protect you from everything I can, be it a panicked horse or the denigration of your fine character.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry, Ross, what does den…denig…”

“It means ‘to abuse’,” he said apologetically. He touched her chin, lifting it to look into her eyes, which had softened to the sea-green hue he enjoyed most. “I won’t tolerate it from Jud or Prudy, I most certainly cannot and will not tolerate it from those who do not know you at all. Do you understand, my dear?”

She nodded. “Yes, Ross. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Demelza,” he said, brushing her cheek with his lips. “Now, are you steady enough to continue up to the house?”

She nodded again, but gave the side-saddle a glare. “I think I’ll walk,” she said, gathering Rose’s reins in her hand.

Ross laughed, nodded his head, taking one of her hands in his and capturing Darkie’s reins in the other. “Walking it is, then, my dear.”

Wednesday 19th of June

Demelza was happily kneading dough at the bench in the kitchen, humming to herself when the door from the yard slammed shut. Prudy sidled through the room, glaring towards the kitchen maid for what felt like the tenth time that morning, before heading towards the library, dust rag in hand.

Demelza gave the dough a punch in frustration. Prudy never _said_ anything. Just _glared_. And it was wearing her nerves quite thin. It had been like this since the Paynters learned of Ross’s intentions to marry his kitchen maid. While there had not been any outward displays of disrespect, there had been plenty of evidence to show the senior servants’ displeasure at this turn of events. They seemed to be even less reliable than before, which was saying something. Childish pranks such as overturned laundry baskets, ruined cake batter and candles with cut wicks were beginning to set Demelza’s teeth on edge. But not enough to go to Ross. She would manage it. Besides, she wouldn’t truly be in a position to confront them about it until Sunday.

Four days. Four days from now she would be married to Captain Ross Poldark of Nampara. She’d been surprised at how quickly time had passed since his proposal nearly two weeks before. Granted, there had been plenty to keep her busy around the house and she’d busied herself with making the home as clean and tidy as possible. Even if it meant moving the furnishing around to do so. Twice. Or three times. She’d lost count.

She remained shocked that her father hadn’t made more of a dust up about the entire situation. She would have doubted Jud – whose dislike of Demelza was well known, now more than ever – made it to Illogan to give her father the news, except she was certain the man would have shown up by now to carry out his threats to take her home.

Perhaps he was remembering the beating he’d received from Ross more than three years ago and had thought better of it.

Since the trip into Truro for her horse, Rose – who was turning out to be as dear to her as Garrick, but she was good enough not to say so to the dear pup – Demelza had kept close to Nampara, preferring to practice her riding in the yard or around the stone wall surrounding the house.

Ross had distanced himself from her since their return from Truro. He was often up and out of the house before she’d had a chance to return from her morning rambles and back late at night in time for a cold supper, then locking himself away in the library. “Decisions about the mine,” is what he’d always say. She didn’t doubt him in this, of course. She’d heard talk – through Jinny – that several of the miners were wondering whether they’d make headway anytime soon.

When he _was_ home early enough for a hot meal, he remained gracious with his comments about her cooking. And there were moments when he would offer his assistance when she practiced her letters (for she was determined to sign her own name in the registry at the church). But, more often than not, he would return home after she’d gone to bed. She wondered if she’d done something wrong, only to chide herself in doing so. It felt as if he was trying to go back in time, back to when their relationship was the way it was: he as her master and she as his servant, without any of the added complications of their intimacy and impending marriage.

The truth of the matter was that she missed him. Missed the companionship they’d built, even before the proposal, and more so ever since: the teasing glances, and the occasional stolen kiss. She would hear his tread on the hallway outside her room as he made his way to the master bedchamber very late at night, and wonder if he was having as hard a time sleeping as she was, often finding herself waking from fevered dreams, tangled in her sheets, her night rail clinging to her damp skin with memories of hands, lips, sighs and moans. It had happened again last night and had kept her awake until dawn.

_She was swimming up through layers of sleep, the heat of his skin igniting the sleeping embers of her arousal, the scratch of a bearded cheek against her stomach, her inner thigh, then lips and tongue touching the slick folds of her sex, her fingers in his hair. She looked down, shocked to see his dark eyes watching her, his hands sliding up from her hips to her waist, then her breasts. The keening wail that had come from her throat as unimaginable pleasure assailed her once again. As she rode the waves of ecstasy radiating through her, she felt his body move up the bed towards her. His hips slid between her legs, his sex filling the aching emptiness of hers. Tasting herself on his lips as his hips surged against hers, biting his lower lip and running her nails along his flanks to his back, eliciting a growl from his throat and a quickening of his pace. How he’d broken their kiss, whispering frantic, pleading words in her ear then rose up, levering his body over hers, holding his torso over hers by his hands. She looked down their bodies, past the broad, strong chest to his flat stomach to the place where their bodies were joined. She ran her hand down his chest towards his stomach and beyond when, suddenly, he stilled, muscles taut and straining for a split second before his hips plunged hard against her, his sex deep within her, pulsing within hers and triggering her own satisfaction._

Demelza blinked slowly. She was standing with her hands filled with bread dough, aroused near to the breaking point and was almost afraid to move for fear of embarrassing herself.

_This has got to stop._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ross had ridden from the mine to meet Jud in the hay field in order to make sure the last of the crop was carted up and loaded at Nampara. A good thing, too, for he’d come upon Jud, dozing amidst the bales. An hour later, they’d finished loading the hay into the wagon and walked the team of oxen back into the barn. He tied Darkie to the hitching post before unloading the hay while Jud put up the oxen for the night. Ross turned to bed down Darkie when he noticed their new mare, Rose, was not in her stall. A quick check of the tack room made Ross smile. Demelza must be practicing again.

He walked back out into the yard just in time to see her come around the corner of one of the outbuildings, a beaming smile on her face as she broke into a canter. She sat prettily on the horse, Ross thought to himself, with her back straight and tall. Her hair was all tied up in a scarf, making Ross wish it were flying wild and free behind her.

Oh, he’d missed her. Had been avoiding her since their trip home from Truro, where he’d kissed her with a hunger he’d not experienced before. And her response… To know her need for him was as great as his was for her had made moving through the days until the 24th near torture.

Four days. Only four more days.

But he missed their days together talking about the news of the day. Listening to her sing in the kitchen as she prepared their supper. Lingering over one of her tarts and a glass of brandy wine. The quiet, knowing glances, the brief touches of cheek and hand. The kisses, filled with promise, which made him ache for more. Which kept him awake, aroused and frustrated for hours into the night.

 _Four days,_ he thought to himself. _Four bloody more days._

Yet, here she was, sitting like a queen on her horse, smiling down on him. And he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.

“Ross!” she exclaimed happily, drawing up next to him. “You’re home early today! Is anything amiss?”

He stroked Rose’s muzzle and shook his head. “No, had to get the hay in today so I left the mine early to ensure it was completed.”

She laughed. “Jud again? Honestly, Ross, you’re much more patient than most masters would be.”

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “It got done. That’s what matters.” He looked at her. “How long have you been out here practicing?”

“Not long,” she said. “I’ve got walking, trotting and cantering all sorted.” She glanced up at the sun, then returned her gaze to his face. “Could we go for a ride out to the cliffs? I want to show you!”

 _Four more days._ Ross shook his head. “No, Demelza, I have work to d—”

“—Please, may we, Ross?” she asked, smiling at him. “Dinner won’t be ready for at least another hour, and it’s such a lovely day.”

He frowned for a moment before blowing out a breath. “Oh, all right,” he said, untying Darkie from the hitching post and laughing at the squeal of delight coming from above his right shoulder. “But then I have to work.” _Four more days._

They set out at a leisurely pace. Ross was indeed impressed with the progress Demelza had made in such a short period of time. She demonstrated her skills with all of the paces and Ross was happy to see how well she and Rose worked together.

“So, do you still hate the side-saddle?” he said, grinning at her.

She smiled at him. “Not as much as I did last week,” she said, “but riding astride is so much easier, Ross!”

He gave her a teasing frown. “Don’t even think about it, my girl!” She laughed and nudged the horse into a canter. Her canter was a thing to behold, nearly as flawless as Verity’s and his pride for his bride-to-be grew deeper.

They stopped near a patch of succulent grass for the horses to crop upon while they stretched their legs. Ross dismounted and reached up to help Demelza to the ground. His hands itched when they touched her narrow waist, but he chose to ignore it. _Four more days._

She turned from him as soon as her feet touched the ground, slipping her arms into her cloak and looking out at the sea. He walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Ross?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Yes, my dear?” he responded in kind.

“I’ve missed you.”

He was not prepared for this and felt his pulse quicken in panic. He took a quick breath before turning her to face him. “I’m sorry, Demelza.”

“You’ve been staying away from me,” she said simply. He had no other response than to nod. “Is it because I’ve done something wrong?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, wishing to kick himself across the county. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Then what’s happened?” she asked, her sea-green eyes, brightened by the setting sun, searched his face.

“Do you remember when you almost fell off of Rose the other day?” he asked, taking her right hand in his left and rubbing his thumb across the top of hers. She nodded. “When I kissed you?” She ducked her head and nodded again. He lifted her chin with the forefinger of his left hand in order to see her eyes. “I wanted you very, very much in that moment. Nearly enough for me to forget where we were and break my promise to you that we would wait to…come together again until after we were man and wife.”

Her hands came up to rest on his chest, her eyes blazing into his. “Ross, I yearn for you. It keeps me up at night, makes me dream and remember.”

He swallowed a groan, and raised her right hand to his lips to press a kiss into her palm. “I remember, too,” he said, his voice gruff, his body responding to her nearness. “Memories of that night are never far from my mind. The way you felt, the sounds you made.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, slipping the tip of his tongue out to flick against her pulse point. “The way you taste.” And he did remember the taste of her: salt and earth, sensual, divine.

He watched as the irises of her eyes widened, turning them stormy and out of focus as his mouth lowered to hers. Her arms wound around his waist while his came up, cupping her head. He lost himself in her kiss, the trembling, aching bliss of it.

Several moments passed before they broke apart, eyes searching one another’s eyes, the gentleness of the smiles gracing their faces belying the fires ignited within. “I want you still, Demelza,” he said, shifting his hands down her body to her hips, pulling her forward while pressing his hips in to meet hers. Her eyelids, made sleepy with desire, flickered up to reveal passion-drugged eyes the color of evergreens. “But I’m determined to wait until Sunday. I want to wait until I’ve said the words, and you’ve said them back to me. Until I’ve put my ring on you and made you mine.” He touched her hair, some of which had escaped the scarf she’d tied around it, the silky strands slipping through his fingers. “I want to bring you to our home, carry you over our threshold and up the stairs to our room. And make you mine.”

“Oh, Ross,” she said in that way that made him wish to take back everything he’d just said and take her here and now on the cliff-side path.

“Four more days, my dear,” he whispered, “and all of that will be true.” He kissed her. “Wait with me, my dear.” He kissed her again. And she nodded.

Four more days. It would be worth the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I went out on a limb with this one... the research I conducted surrounding the state of feminine hygiene in the late 18th century was... and education, to say the least. The scenario just popped into my head and I ran with it. Poor Ross. :-) Anyhow, I hope I haven't completely lost you with it... 
> 
> I'm considering what I need to do to help promote my work, including posting them on my tumblr page (or start a separate one just for the fan fiction and my obsession with all things Poldark). If any of you have done this before, please feel free to reach out to me. I'd love to learn about your experiences.


	4. Week Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Ross and Demelza's life during the three weeks that pass while their marriage banns are being read. This chapter covers the events of the third and final week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This story picks up from the end of Episode 1:3 of the Poldark 2015 series. Some of the back story I have incorporated comes from my piece "Then Let it Be True", the third part from my [Discovery](http://archiveofourown.org/series/303369) series. Not required reading by any stretch, but I may reference some things from it within the chapters for this.
> 
> Thank you, Winston Graham, for writing such fantastic characters. Thanks to Sherylyn and alliekiwi for the beta and thanks to all of you who have given me kudos or shared your comments with me. Please keep them coming!

Sunday, 24th of June

The first streaks of dawn were staining the Cornwall countryside with the colours of pale pink and lavender. Demelza crept through the kitchen at Nampara, gathered her cloak and stole out into the yard on feet as quiet as a mouse. She always enjoyed her morning rambles along the fields and lanes of Nampara, her home for the past three years. She was always looking for new flowers to bring home to brighten up the stone walls and rough-hewn floors of the sturdy cottage. Today’s explorations, however, held special meaning, for on this day, the fields, lanes, land and that sturdy cottage would truly become hers. She was to become the mistress of Nampara in a few more hours.

The gravity of the situation was not lost on her. Far from it. She’d spent the last four days in deep contemplation about what this change in her life would bring. The caring for the house would no longer be considered chores or tasks to be accomplished to maintain her employment. They would be considered an extension of who she was, as mistress, and reflect upon the man whom she would soon call husband.

Husband. As a girl, she’d never given much thought of marrying. She’d never had the time for such folly as a child, what with helping her mother care for her five brothers, then the sixth on her own. And once she’d been settled into life at Nampara, she’d never been able to see herself leaving. She’d grown to love it so much, so quickly. And she’d noticed how some of the men from the mine or the cottages in Mellon casting their eyes in her direction, but she’d never given any of them a second glance. The love she’d had for Ross, first as master, then a friend and, finally, as a man, had seen to that.

“Husband,” she said, trying the word on her tongue and found she enjoyed it. She wondered if she would feel... different after the words had been spoken. Would she be changed? Or would life continue to march forward as it had yesterday? She’d been working towards bettering herself through her studies, by doing her best to mimic Ross’s pattern of speech when she could, and knew she would continue to work towards these goals even after their marriage was officiated. But Demelza felt the transformation of their relationship from master and servant to man and wife would somehow place a shine on her efforts. To elevate them to something greater, with further purpose.

As she turned towards the cottage, her thoughts shifted towards the night. After their ride to the cliffs the other evening, Demelza had done her very best not to dwell on the need she had in her heart for him, because doing so made her want. Made her crave. It stole her sleep, her appetite. Made her forgetful and irritable. Made her ache and yearn for something she could not have. Through her newfound understanding, she’d seen it had caused Ross to be similarly troubled with the wanting.

Yet, while part of her kicked against the strictures of the waiting, there was another part of her that had begun to understand the other side of wanting: that of anticipation. How the ache and yearn could shift and change to hunger and desire. It was clear he’d come to understand this as well. On yesterday afternoon, they’d taken to almost prowling around one another like cats. She would visit the barn when she’d known he was out there with the horses, doing his best to avoid her. Would ask if he needed anything or if she could bring him something to eat. She’d seen him, watching her through eyes the colour of a shadowed forest before turning his head quickly away. To know she’d been the one responsible for the hunger she’d seen in his eyes made her relish it all, and the sway she’d held had been a revelation.

Yearning, craving, desiring him. All had been outside of her reach, and she’d been powerless to do anything but endure. Until today.

She finished collecting the last of her flowers. It was time to go back and prowl a bit more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, in the master bedchamber, Ross stood naked and damp from his bath with the linens held lightly in his hand. The realization that he would share this room with Demelza, from this night forward – for the rest of his life – struck him as hard as a kick from a mule. He felt queasy and painfully aroused in turns, and had grown damn tired of it. He swore under his breath and proceeded to vigorously dry himself off before padding over to the wardrobe to pull out his clothes for the day.

He’d been all through this in his head countless times before now. He had no reservations about his decision to marry Demelza, from the moment he’d made it to now. So why was he struggling with these last-minute doubts? They’d stolen into his ponderings late the night before and had kept him awake for most of it. _What was causing this sudden onset of nerves?_ he wondered to himself.

He’d passed the last four days perplexed at how time seemed to either disappear in great swallows when one wanted it to move slower or crept along at a pace slightly slower than a snail when one needed it to move faster. He’d worked harder down in the mine and out on his land than he had in all the time he’d been back from America, returning to the cottage near spent of energy, and with barely a word to Demelza. Unlike earlier in the week, she hadn’t seemed to mind his reticence at conversation, or even made any attempts to lure him into stolen kisses as she had before. Instead, he’d noticed her easy, graceful movements around the kitchen while putting together something to eat or kneading dough for their bread, or the quiet way she would sit with her darning by the firelight. He’d watch, as she would stretch upwards to hang clothes fresh from the wringer to dry in the yard or when she would offer him food or drink when he was in with the horses. They were simple, incidental interactions to the non-observer. For Ross, however, every encounter, no matter how innocent, seemed to have some seductive undercurrent, becoming kindling to the growing fire of his need for her. And it was driving him mad.

He set these thoughts aside and turned to walk around the room. It was somewhat sparse in its furnishings, the curtains on the windows and those hanging from the bedposts, greenish-grey velvet and oppressive. It had been well over twenty years since a woman — his late mother, Grace — had shared this room with his father, and the overwhelming masculinity it had acquired over the years was clearly apparent. He knew Demelza would be fully capable of placing her own stamp onto the room, for she’d done just that throughout the rest of the house. He only wished there was a way for him to make the space more welcoming for her first night as mistress.

An idea crossed his mind. He smiled to himself and proceeded to dress.

When he walked into the kitchen he could tell Demelza had already been out and back from her morning ramble. Fresh flowers filled the pots and crock she had spread throughout the room and out into the parlour. Prudy was inching over towards the hearth with the kettle.

“Where is Demelza?” Ross asked, glancing through to the parlour. Prudy set the kettle down on the table with a thud and caused water to splash from the spout. He found himself inordinately annoyed by this. “Prudy?”

“Cap’n Ross, sir,” Prudy said, wiping at the spilled water with the cuff of her shirtsleeve. His annoyance grew. “The girl be up in ‘er room. It’s bad luck for a groom to see ‘is bride afore the weddin’, sir.”

“I _will_ see her before the wedding because we are all traveling in the same cart, Prudy,” Ross stated.

Prudy blinked. “Oh. You be right, sir.”

“Never mind,” he said with a sigh. “I need you to do something for me before Demelza comes downstairs. It is very important to me, so I will be most displeased if you decide to express your continued displeasure at the change of circumstances here.”

“I’m sorry, Cap’n Ross, sir?” Prudy cast wide eyes in his direction. “What do you mean?”

“Do not think that your juvenile pranking has escaped my attention, Prudy,” Ross glowered. “I told you what would happen if you disrespected her and I meant it.” He could see by the look in her eye that she knew he was serious. “That ends now. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Cap’n Ross, sir,” she said, bobbing a curtsey.

“It is time for _you_ to demonstrate your loyalty to this house and my family, Prudy,” he said. “How you manage this will determine what happens next.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Demelza finished her bath and looked at the dress lying on her bed. It had arrived from Truro the day before and was even more beautiful than she’d thought it would be. It was simple in its lines but the fabric was grand, very soft compared to her other dresses, and the new stays and undergarments that had accompanied it more than made up for the dress’s simplicity. She took her time, brushing her hair until it shone in loose, red-gold waves that fell down around her shoulders. She peered into the window, using the reflection to help her as she tucked tiny daisies at her crown and amidst the curls near her ear. She giggled with joy and walked to the bed. She’d just finished pulling on the shift when she heard a knock on her door. “Come in?”

The door opened and Prudy stood on the other side, twisting her apron in her fingers. “Good morning, Miss Demelza,” she said quietly.

Demelza blinked. She could have sworn it was the first time she’d ever heard Prudy use her given name since her arrival at Nampara. Coupling it with the word “Miss” was enough to take one’s breath away. “Good…good morning, Prudy,” Demelza said, regaining her composure.

“May I be of assistance to you, miss?” Prudy asked. Demelza slowly nodded and stepped away from the door. Prudy looked at the remaining garments on the bed. “You’ll be needing help with these stays.” Demelza nodded once again and allowed Prudy to help her into the new petticoat and lace up the stays.

“Prudy?” Demelza asked.

“Yes, miss?” Prudy said, giving a lace a tug.

Demelza turned to face the woman, whose eyes were focused somewhere around Demelza’s stomach. “Why are you doing this?” she said. “For three weeks now, you’ve made it clear you don’t much care for the fact Captain Ross is marrying the likes of me. Why the change of heart today?”

Prudy looked squarely into Demelza’s eyes. “Well, it’s clear that ‘e’s taken a fancy to you, girl, one that’s not goin’ away anytime soon. An’ you’re a good girl, I knows that about you by now.” She twisted her fingers in her apron again. “And you’ve been good to me, even when I’m lazy and shiftless, you’ve never told Mr. Ross anything against me. I figure it’ll take some time to get to used to callin’ you Mistress an’ all…” She paused, and then appeared to make some kind of decision. “But the day’s here now, so it’s time to do it.” She nodded once, turned Demelza around and went back to work on the stays.

Demelza could think of nothing to say to that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ross double-checked the hitch for the oxen one last time before fixing Jud with an unyielding glare. “I have your word, Jud? You and Prudy will sit at the back of the church and say nothing during the ceremony.”

“Yessir, Cap’n Ross, sir,” Jud muttered.

“Not. A. Word.” Ross emphasized.

“We won’t make no trouble for you today, sir.”

Ross was perplexed. Jud had never been this agreeable in all the time he’d known the older man. And, if that weren’t disturbing enough, Ross was almost certain that he couldn’t detect the slightest whiff of liquor on the man’s breath. “Lastly,” he said to the older man, “you and Prudy agree to stay in Mellon tonight, correct?”

Just before Ross had left the mine the night before, he’d been surprised when his friend Zacky Martin offered to have his daughter Jinny return to the family home for the night so the Carters’ cottage could be used by the Paynters. “Just thought it might be a nice thing to do for the two of you, Ross,” Zacky had said, colour rising to his cheeks. “A bit a privacy for you and your young bride.”

Ross had been speechless, but grateful for the Martin family’s thoughtfulness.

“Yes, sir,” Jud said, jarring Ross from his recollections. “Appreciate Jinny Carter’s lettin’ us use it.”

“All right then,” Ross said, scratching his head. He remained sceptical but chose not to tempt fate with any more questions. “We will be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

He checked the sky again as he headed into the house: not a cloud to be found. He felt the dimple in his left cheek crease as he smiled and took the steps into the house two at a time. He entered the kitchen, reaching to collect his hat before he came to a sudden stop. And forgot how to breathe.

Demelza stood at the base of the stairs. She looked beautiful dressed in a gown the colour of his favourite port wine. It fit her flawlessly, emphasizing the narrowness of her waist, the scooped neck flattering her décolletage. Her hair was simply dressed and adorned with flowers. A pretty blush graced her high cheekbones, her sea-green eyes sparkled with life and vitality. She held a pretty bouquet of wildflowers in her right hand, the fingers of her left hand busily pleating and unpleating the fabric of her skirts, revealing the only sign of nerves he could perceive.

She took a step towards him and gave him a quick curtsey. “Good morning, Ross,” she murmured, her full mouth curved up at the corners.

“Good morning, Demelza,” he said, inclining his head and stepping further into the room, closing the distance between them by half.

Demelza walked to the kitchen table and set down her bouquet. “Would you like something to eat before we go?”

He shook his head. “Nothing to eat, thank you.”

“Some tea, perhaps?” she asked. Ross nodded and slid down onto the bench seat of the table. Demelza settled across from him, picked up the pot of tea and poured two cups. She added some milk to his and a little sugar to hers and served them both before sliding a plate of biscuits between them.

They drank their tea and ate their biscuits in silence for several moments before she cleared her throat. “Did you sleep well, Ross?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” he said. It was a lie, of course, but she didn’t need to know that. “How was your night’s sleep, Demelza?”

“Fine,” she said, her lips twitching a moment before she let out a crystalline laugh. “Oh, Ross, I didn’t sleep a wink last night!”

His gaze flicked across to mischievous sea-green eyes, and he felt much of the tension leave his shoulders. He shook his head and smiled. “You do make me smile, my dear. You do, indeed.” He picked up her hand and kissed her wrist. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded. “I am, but I’ve not seen Prudy for the last thirty minutes or so. I don’t know where she could have got off to.” Just then, they heard the sound of feet on the stairs. They turned to find Prudy, pinning her moth-eaten hat onto her head. Ross was glad to see she’d at least had the decency to put on a clean apron.

Ross finished his tea and rose from the bench. “Demelza and I will be out in just a moment, Prudy,” he stated. She bobbed a quick curtsey to them both and left the room. He turned his attention to Demelza, who’d popped the last piece of her biscuit in her mouth. A small crumb cling to her bottom lip and it took everything within Ross’s power to keep from kissing it off. He offered her his hand to help her up from her seat, reached out with the pad of his thumb and brushed the crumb free. The warmth of her breath heated his thumb as it blew past. He shuddered slightly and lowered his hand, clenching it into a fist at his side.

He shifted his other hand to rest at the base of her spine and nodded towards the door. “Shall we go, my dear?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Ross,” she agreed. She picked up her bouquet and, turning to take one last look at the kitchen, walked out in front of him, leaving him only to pick up his hat and close the door behind them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The oxen team bore the cart over the crest of the rise on the outskirts of Sawle. Demelza looked ahead and saw the top of the bell spire appear through the heavy foliage of the cedar tree near the church. She then glanced up at the man seated next to her. The man who would be, before the hour was through, her lawfully wedded husband.

The butterflies that had been flitting around her stomach since they’d left Nampara began widening their circles in earnest and she willed herself not to lose the tea and biscuits she’d eaten earlier.

They’d spent most of the ride in silence, with only a passing comment about the weather here or the crops there as a diversion to the sedate clopping of the oxen’s hooves, or the gentle snores she’d heard coming from the back of the cart, where Jud and Prudy lay amidst a sizable mound of hay. Demelza had done everything she could think of to keep sitting up straight on the wooden seat and not lean against Ross’s forest-green clad shoulder.

She’d been pleased to see he’d chosen to wear the forest green velvet suit, for it was her very favourite. Aside from the fact it fit him quite well, the colour brought out the moss green of his changeable hazel eyes. The jacket was collarless, which allowed the high neck collar of his grey waistcoat to show above. His shirt and crisp white cravat winked through at the collar. His black tricorn hat fit low across his forehead and shaded his eyes from the late morning sun. It held his hair — long, curling black strands flecked with bits of copper in the right light and known to be nearly as unruly as her own — close in to his head. She’d had fears for her own becoming hopelessly tangled by the time they arrived at church, but had been gratified to notice they’d had very little wind along the way.

Ross brought the oxen and cart to a halt in the small pasture next to the churchyard’s low stone fence. Jud roused from sleep and clambered out of the back of the cart, hitched the oxen to the metal ring in the fence and helped his wife down. Ross cast a quick glance and nervous smile at Demelza before climbing down from the bench seat.

“My dear?” he said, reaching up to assist her down from the cart. She picked up her bouquet, slid to the edge of the seat and placed her hands on his shoulders. His strong hands clasped her waist and swung her down. She felt the muscles in his arms flex through the sleeves of his coat and he held her close until her feet touched the ground. She looked up shyly into his eyes and murmured her thanks. The solemnity she found in his eyes unnerved her, and she grew flustered. She removed her hands from his shoulders and began patting away at the road dust that had accumulated on the skirts of her gown. Ross stepped back from her and soon used his own hands to clear away the dust from his jacket and trousers before plucking the hat from his head and whacking it against his leg. They both jumped and laughed nervously at the sound and looked at each other once again.

There were so many things she wanted to say, but didn’t know the words. “It’s finally here,” she said shyly.

He nodded, some of the laughter from a moment ago being replaced by the same solemn gaze she’d encountered when they’d first arrived. “Demelza,” he said, his voice low, intended just for her hearing, “I pray I make you happy.”

She smiled and reached out her hand to take his arm. “And I you, Ross.”

With that, they entered the church.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The candles, fresh at the morning service, were halfway gone when they entered the back of the church. The Reverend Hodges stood at in front of the altar, clad in his white vestments. Ross turned and looked down at Demelza, the expression on her face revealing serenity that he’d no earthly idea how she’d managed it. As they walked towards the altar, Ross found himself wishing there had been some kind of music, for if anyone deserved music at her wedding it was the young woman at his side, who’d brought melody and song into his life from the first time he’d brought her home. Just then, he heard her begin to hum, barely audible enough for anyone to hear, but enough for him to give her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and a squeeze of the hand that rested on his arm. She gave his arm a light squeeze in response and he’d continued up the aisle with his heart a little more at ease than it had been moments before.

When they reached the altar, they released their hands and stood, shoulder to shoulder in front of the vicar.

“Dearly beloved,” Reverend Hodges intoned, “we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation—” a quick, disapproving flick of a glance towards Jud and Prudy “—to join together this Man and this…Woman,” he paused with distain, “in holy Matrimony.”

If they hadn’t been in church, Ross would have punched Hodges in the nose. The vicar droned on, and Ross only picked up bits and pieces of the next several sentences…

_Mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church …Not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding…_

Brute beasts? Well, perhaps sometimes, but not often,  
at which point he’d had to bite the inside of his cheek  
to keep from laughing out loud.  
What was wrong with him?

_…Ordained for the procreation of children to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name._

He pictured her, swollen with his child,  
and had to close his eyes.

_Secondly, It was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body._

A truly carnal image crossed his mind.  
He feared he would be incinerated on the spot.

Yet, the vicar’s words were striking home.

_Thirdly, It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined._

He looked down at Demelza, considered all of the reasons he was marrying her, yet wondered if she’d ever considered the precarious nature of his own situation. Owner of one derelict copper mine and another that appeared to be heading in that direction. Owner of farm with land of dubious quality, and a home. _All_ mortgaged. _All_ at risk.

The explanation for all the last minute nerves became clear. What _did_ he have to offer a wife? He had no time to contemplate this further because the vicar pressed ahead to the part Ross was the most concerned with.

_Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace._

The vicar paused for what felt like an eternity. Ross feared he would hear the voice of Tom Carne from the back of the church, demanding that his daughter be removed from Ross’s influence at once. Given the silence that had come from Illogan since announcing the news, he’d half expected the confrontation to take place at the ceremony. Fortunately, nary a sound was heard.

_I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful._

There was silence from both himself and his bride. Air began flowing through his lungs once again.

_At which day of Marriage, if any man do allege and declare any impediment, why they may not be coupled together in Matrimony, by God's Law, or the Laws of this Realm; and will be bound, and sufficient sureties with him, to the parties; or else put in a Caution (to the full value of such charges as the persons to be married do thereby sustain) to prove his allegation: then the solemnization must be deferred, until such time as the truth be tried._

No impediments. God be praised.

Reverend Hodges turned to face Ross. “Ross Vennor Poldark, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Ross had felt her eyes upon him as the vicar had asked him these questions but had kept his eyes fixed and focused on the vicar. He finally turned his gaze towards Demelza and noticed a small furrow on her brow. “I will,” he said, pleased that his voice sounded strong and true. The furrow eased and the corners of her lips rose in a tentative smile.

The vicar turned to Demelza. “Demelza Carne, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Ross had watched as the tips of the wildflowers in Demelza’s bouquet trembled as the questions were asked of her. “I will,” she said, her eyes blazing in his.

The vicar motioned for them to turn to face one another. Demelza knelt down and set her flowers by her feet with a mumbled apology before rising once again and standing before Ross. He reached for her right hand with his. Her fingers were cool to the touch, and he found himself glad to have it to hold.

“I, Ross, take thee Demelza to my wedded Wife,” he murmured. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Demelza then took Ross’s right hand in hers and said her vows. “I, Demelza, take thee Ross to my wedded Husband.” She smiled at the word before continuing. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

Ross smiled broadly at her before reaching into the watch pocket of his waistcoat for the ring he’d purchased for her when they’d gone to Truro. A simple band of gold, he placed it on the Bible the vicar extended to him for the blessing. Once blessed, he accepted it back from the vicar. Ross’s eyes searched Demelza’s for a moment before he took her left hand in his, slipped the ring onto her left ring finger and held it just above the third knuckle.

“With this Ring I thee wed,” Ross said solemnly, his voice gruff with emotion. “With my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” He slid the ring the rest of the way her finger and gave her hand a squeeze. She returned it with a radiant smile.

As they knelt for their final blessing, Ross found himself ignoring what the vicar was saying and offered a prayer of his own. “Dear God, please watch over us as we begin this new life together. Protect us from harm. Show us how to care for one another. May I grow to deserve her love and teach me what it is to love her. Amen.”

“Forasmuch as Ross and Demelza have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later, Ross and Demelza stood in the sacristy, signing their names in the church register. Mrs. Hodges offered the newlyweds cups of tea and sweetcakes before they made their way back to the cart. Jud and Prudy had bid them farewell, choosing instead to walk to Mellon, although Demelza suspected Jud had plans to find a pub in Sawle to help quench his thirst. This meant Ross and Demelza would be alone for the first time in quite a long time.

She’d been surprised at the news of Jud and Prudy’s plans for the night, although not unhappily so. She’d been worried about what would happen once they reached Nampara. After all, it was only early afternoon and they would be home very shortly. And Demelza knew that it was only proper for men and women to come together under cover of darkness. After all, she’d paid close attention to what the vicar said during the ceremony. She recalled hearing him speak of men and women and their wicked, carnal natures. She thought back to the last three weeks, where she’d struggled with the desperate need she’d developed for Ross, _knew_ that the need she had for him was carnal. Was it right, now that they were married, for them to behave like… what had the vicar said again? Brute beasts? She’d had to admit to herself that there’d been times, during the past three weeks, she would have gladly acted as if she’d been a brute beast if it had meant she’d have known his touch on her skin, his body within hers, yet again. Or was it all to take place in the dark, to be purposeful for creating children only? And, if that were the case, was it a sin to enjoy it and the feelings it gave her?

Yet, here it was, the middle of the day! Would she be expected to go about her business, as if this were just another day? Was she to start the pastry for pie and fix supper, while he headed off to the mine or locked himself away in the library? Were they to wait until the cover of darkness was upon them? They’d all just celebrated the summer solstice, so the days were very long. She looked up at the sun, then did the calculation in her head: it wouldn’t be full dark for almost _eight more hours!_ She gave a little groan that she hoped was quiet enough not to have been heard.

“Demelza, did you say something?” Ross asked, leaning his head down towards hers.

Hopes dashed. “No, Ross, nothing,” she said, her fingers worrying the fabric of her gown.

“My dear, you will twist a hole in your new skirts and then where will you be?” he said, a tease in his voice.

She pursed her lips. “Hmmmm….”

They crossed the creek at the midway point of the valley. _Home in less than twenty minutes_ , she thought to herself. She’d decided if he didn’t head to the mine she’d go for a very long walk. Until dusk. _Late_ dusk.

“Demelza,” he said softly, causing her to start.

She turned to look at him. “Yes, I’m sorry, R-ross,” she said with a slight stammer.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, slowing the oxen’s steady progress several beats. “Do you need to get up and stretch your legs?”

“No, Ross, nothing of the sort,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. She could feel the heat of his body through his coat. This was not helping.

“Then what is it, my dear?” Concern had caused his brow to crease. His eyes held hers, whiskey-brown and kind.

“Would you like some dinner when we get back to Nampara?” she asked, deciding to face the inevitable.

He paused and blinked at her. “Dinner?” He brought the oxen to a halt before shifting in his seat, turning slightly and bringing his right thigh to rest against her left. “Well, the thought of having something of substance holds some appeal, considering I’ve had naught but tea, biscuits and sweetcakes so far this day.” He tilted a look down into her eyes. Demelza tried to smile in return but knew she’d failed miserably when she saw the clueless expression on his face. “Whatever is the matter, Demelza? You are beginning to worry me!”

She gave up. “Ross, it’s the middle of the day!”

“Yes… it is,” he said, clearly at sea.

“And we were just wed!”

He smiled and lifted her left hand in his. “Yes, we were, as a matter of fact.”

She frowned. “So, am I to fix you dinner and then garden and then do the laundry, just as it were any other day?”

He stared at her for a full five seconds. If she’d been standing she probably would have kicked him in one of his shins. But then the creeping grin she’d come to love so much bloomed on the right side of his face and he laughed. She gave him a swat with her hand, which he grabbed, kissed and used to pull her over into his lap. Before she could launch into giving him a piece of her mind his mouth closed over hers with a groan, his tongue sliding into her mouth to tangle with hers until she was as limp as well-coshed pilchard. Her hands slid up his cheeks to knock his hat onto the footboard and she sighed as the silky strands slipped and slid between her fingers.

His lips left hers and slid down to caress the side of her neck, his hands caressing and squeezing her, the pressure setting of shivers of pleasure all along her body. One of his thumbs swept the skin at the neck of her gown, then further down to run along the edge of her stays. Her nipple tightened in response, rising up against the edge of her stay, and the pressure of the whalebone and his thumb along the sensitive peak made her whimper with pleasure. His answering hum against her throat made her toes curl.

Ross raised his head from the side of her neck, where his tongue had been lavishing attention near her collarbone. “Demelza, dear, I do _not_ want dinner when we reach Nampara. Unless it is you that is on the menu.”

She lowered her eyes to meet his. They were black with desire. She shivered in response.

“As a matter of fact,” he growled, disentangling himself from their embrace, setting her back down on the seat beside him and retrieving his hat from the floor near his feet, “if we do not get back to Nampara within the next fifteen minutes I will drag you into what looks like an exceedingly comfortable haystack behind you.” He nodded towards the back of the ox cart, kissed her soundly once more before slamming the hat down onto his head and picking up the reins. He sent them down with a slap over the backsides of the oxen that lowed their displeasure and set off, double time. “I do not wish for our first time together as man and wife to be conducted in such a manner. Not when there is a perfectly good bed awaiting us at home.”

She giggled, threaded her arm through his and snuggled close. The ride was more violent as they went over some of the larger potholes and ruts faster than would have been advisable. She found she didn’t care for they pulled into the yard at Nampara fifteen minutes later. Ross directed the team into the barn and leapt to the ground before the cart had stopped moving. He held up his hand when she’d made a move to get down and shook his head. “You stay there. I told you what I wanted to do to you after we married.” His eyes bore into hers. “This will only take me a moment.”

She remembered what he’d said to her: _“I want to bring you to our home, carry you over our threshold and up the stairs to our room. And make you mine.”_ Her anticipation grew.

He stripped off his coat and waistcoat, rolling up his shirt sleeves before unhitching the oxen. He gave them a quick rub down with straw, Demelza’s eyes watching the strength in his forearms and hands as he worked, before guiding them into their pens. He then walked over to the horses, checking their feed and water. He picked up two pails and headed back out to the pump, but not before sending such a scorching look at her that made her heart beat faster. He washed his hands and gathered water to refill the horses’ trough before returning to the cart, drying his hands on his shirt as he walked. Once again, he reminded her of the big, black tomcat she’d seen skulking around one of the outbuildings at Mellon as he’d searched for a queen in heat. She found her skin felt tight and hot and she fidgeted on the cart bench. The jolt of sensation that small movement had on her body was irrepressible. A moan escaped her lips, the bottom of which was caught by her teeth.

At this motion, Ross came to a stop next to the cart, his eyes never leaving hers. “Give me your hand, Mistress Poldark.”

It was the first time he’d called her by her new title and it made her knees weak. She slid over to the end of the bench, the friction of her skirts against her body raising another moan up and out of her throat. Placing her hand in his, he pulled her the rest of the way out of the cart and into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He carried her as if she weighed nothing. He strode out of the barn. “Close the door,” he whispered in her ear, leaning so she could do so before continuing across the yard and into the front hallway of the cottage.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ross didn’t stop until they’d reached the parlour. He released her, sliding her body down along the front of his until she stood pressed against him. Her body was vibrating against his with desire, and it fuelled his own. He kissed her; near violent in its passion, his hands slid down her waist to cup her buttocks. He pulled her hips tight against his, bringing her up onto her tiptoes. He ground his hips against hers, his mouth shifting from hers to her throat, smiling as he heard her moan so close to his ear. His tongue and teeth tasted and nipped her skin once again, until the bleeding edge of his desire for her had been temporarily sated.

He leaned back from her, gazed into her passion-drugged eyes and pressed a kiss to her lips. “We will need light,” he said, his voice dark and heavy with need. “Light a candle for us, my dear. I will be right back.” He walked back out to the front hallway and struck the bolt on the door. By the time he’d returned, Demelza had lit a candle and shed her cloak. The rich burgundy of her gown glowed with warmth and the light from the candle revealed the siren’s face and form of the woman before him. This other Demelza, whom he’d only begun to know, looked out at him through heavy-lidded eyes, which gleamed in the candlelight. She was _his_ how, for better or for worse, richer or poorer. He’d pledged to worship her with his body. She’d pledged to honour and obey him. The possibilities were endless.

“Come,” he said, simply. He swung her up into his arms once again and leaned down so she could reach the lit taper with one hand. She wrapped the other around his neck and they climbed the stairs to the master bedchamber.

The light from the single, flickering candle cast shadows along the dark wood panelling lining the staircase. He stopped next to each of the wall sconces along the hallway, which she lit to illuminate their way forward. The fingers of her other hand slipped into the collar of his shirt, the heat from her fingertips running along his collarbone and shoulder, making him shiver with want. He kissed her when they reached the door to the master bedchamber with more tenderness than he’d thought himself capable of in that moment. Gazing into her eyes, he nudged the door open with his shoulder and carried her through.

The embers from the fire glowed in the fireplace, warming the room with its heat and light. He carried her throughout the room, allowing her to light the candles on the mantle and the wall sconces, revealing the pots of flowers he’d asked Prudy to bring in before they’d left for Sawle. He could see the joy filling Demelza’s face as each was revealed, and her delight trebled his own.

“Oh, Ross,” she said in that way that made him want to moan out loud.

“I wanted it to feel like it was your room as well, Demelza,” he murmured in her ear before dropping a kiss on the skin just below. He walked towards the night table on the right side of the bed, leaning so she could place the lit taper safely down. “You’ll do more, I’ve no doubt, but I wante—” Her kiss captured the rest of his words. It was the first time she’d ever initiated a kiss and he surrendered to it. During their trip to the bedchamber, the passion that had flared to near flashpoint downstairs had momentarily cooled, however her inexpert caresses and had begun to fan the flames once again. He took the lead, showing her how he liked the heat of her mouth, the caress of her tongue against his.

She pulled away from the kiss with a sigh, stroking her hand down his right cheek. “Thank you.”

He grinned, setting her down onto her feet. “You’re welcome.” He lit the three-stick candelabra on the table, turning to catch her eye. “I said we would need light,” he repeated his words from downstairs. He approached her, only stopping when he was mere inches from her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Whenever we are together like this, I will want light,” he whispered. “I want to look upon you, watch you as I touch you and see the expressions chase across your face. I want us to see one another, naked, entwined together, whenever we are together.” He paused; enjoying how his words had caused her eyes to darken, her cheeks to flush, and the tip of her tongue appear to wet her lips. It made him feel heady, powerful that he could make her feel this way.

He brushed a kiss across her lips. “We will be here, in our bedchamber, most of the time.” He paused to drop kisses along the curve of her neck before taking her earlobe between his teeth for a brief nibble. The feel of her nails scoring his lower back rewarded his efforts and he tucked the memory away for future reference. “But know this now, Mistress Poldark,” he murmured between the kisses that were making their way towards her lips. He stopped and drew back, awaiting the slow rise of her eyelids and pinned her gaze with his. “I fully intend to have you anywhere my heart desires.”

He swept her into a kiss of unfathomable depths of passion, unleashing the tethered desire that had been building within him for the past three weeks. Weeks? Months? Years, if he were honest with himself. From the time he’d begun to notice her blooming into her womanhood he’d wanted her, had felt guilty for doing so and yet now here she was, grown and desiring him as well.

She made unintelligible sounds of need deep in her throat as her hands left his back to sweep up his chest to his head; her nails scratching his scalp and making it come alive. He broke their kiss, groaning his pleasure while his fingers fumbled with the hooks at the front of her dress.

“Let me, let me,” she panted, flicking his hands away with her own and tending to the hooks within seconds. He dropped to his knees to bring her skirts up to help her off with the gown before either of them damaged it in their haste.

He rose to find her standing before him in a quilted petticoat of the palest pink, ivory corset and shift. The string at the neckline of the latter was loose, so the neckline lay lower, across the crest of her breasts and exposing a hint of the cleavage below. The effect intensified his arousal near the breaking point. “You are so beautiful, Demelza,” he groaned, leaning forward to press kisses along the edge of her shift, his arms wrapped around her waist, his hands filled with her full buttocks.

Demelza was frantic. “Help me with my stays, Ross, please!” she said, her breath coming in gasps, “I can’t catch my breath!”

He rose, spinning her around and made short work of the laces. He stripped away the corset, freeing her from her confinement. She turned, breathed a sigh of relief and beamed her siren’s smile up into his eyes. The loosened collar of the shift allowed it to slide further down her torso, and more of the shadowed cleavage was revealed. The dusty rose pink of the crest of one breast came into view, her nipple diamond hard from arousal, while the other strained against the fine lawn material. She gazed up at him, taking her hands and sliding them into the waistline of her petticoats, easing them down her hips and thighs until they pooled on the floor.

Her shift was knee-length, nearly translucent in the candlelight. His eyes moved down her body, pausing briefly where he could see the shape of her body silhouetted within, the shadow of her pubis at the apex of her thighs before travelling down towards her feet. As he brought his eyes back up to her face, her eyes darkened as her fingers gathered the fabric around her hips, pulling up and up until the tops of gartered stockings were revealed. She flashed a triumphant smile at the sound of his groan before pulling the garment free of her body and stood, unashamedly nude in front of him.

Skin the colour of cream with a smattering of freckles along her shoulders. Breasts the size of ripened peaches that he knew tasted as sweet, the nipples fully erect and begging to be adored. Her waist, narrow enough not to require the stays she wore, dipping in only to flare dramatically to the fullness of her hips. His eyes cast lower, to the soft, silky russet curls shielding her sex to her long, strong thighs to her knees and lower legs, encased in white stockings, with pale pink ribbons tying them at the knees.

Ross groaned when he saw her legs, willing himself not to savage her.He swallowed, and found his throat parched. As he gazed at her, he remembered how each part of her body had felt under his hands and tasted by his tongue. He all but stalked around her as he moved towards the desk for the decanter of brandy he’d asked Prudy to set up for them. He lifted the glass stopper of the decanter and poured half a glass, never taking his eyes off his bride. He took a sip and stared at her over the edge of the glass. She blushed, the colour rising from the crest of her breasts up to her cheeks. She brought one hand out, moving it to shield the silky curls at the apex of her thighs.

“No,” Ross rasped, setting the bottle down on the table, covering the distance between them in two strides to stop her. “I’m sorry, my dear, I simply find you are so beautiful to look upon. Even more than I remembered from our night together.” He stroked one of her breasts, kissed the side of her neck before raising his eyes to look at her once more. “There is never to be any shame, not with us, do you understand?” he said, taking a sip of brandy and pressing his lips to hers, sharing the sip with her and surrendering to the battle of tooth and tongue that followed. When they broke apart, Ross tipped her chin up so he could see into her eyes. “Do you understand, Demelza?”

She nodded. “Yes, Ross,” she said in a deep, sultry voice he’d not heard from her before. He noticed a trace of brandy ran down her chin. He leaned in, using his tongue, to capture it. She purred and kissed him once again, taking his lower lip between her teeth and giving it a bite. He shifted his free hand down to grip her buttocks and involuntarily flexed his hips against hers.

He broke away from her kiss, gritting his teeth in an effort to slow the pace of his arousal. He pressed his forehead against hers before leaning back and draining what was left in the glass. He reached for her hand. “Come.”

They walked over to the right side of the bed and he set the glass down on the table next to the candelabra. He closed his eyes when he felt her fingers loosening the cravat around his throat, only to open them when she reached up to kiss the underside of his jaw as she pulled the fabric free. He looked down into her eyes, his left hand working on the buttons on the cuff of his right sleeve. She touched his hand to stop him before taking up the task herself. He was nearly overcome with the eroticism their tableau created: she, standing nude before him, busily working to free him of his shirt. His patience finally gave way when she began to struggle with the buttons on the left cuff and bit her bottom lip in frustration.

He growled, low in his throat. “Enough,” he said, reaching down to pull the shirt up and free from his breeches and over his head. He heard the ping of one of the buttons pop free of the shirt and hit the floor. Her hands were on his chest within seconds, their fingers running through the full, black hair that covered his chest and belly. She was tall, standing only a half a head shorter than he, so their bodies were well matched next to one another. He brushed the crest of one of her breasts with the backs of his fingers before flicking the nipple with his thumb. She whimpered when he bent to take it into his mouth, his tongue circling, feeding. He stood again, taking her face in his hands and kissing her before moving his hands down the sides of her neck to her shoulders and around her back, enjoying the feel of her soft skin under his hands. Her hands came around his sides to press against his back, her fingers kneading his muscles and drawing out low, guttural sounds from his throat.

He leaned back, turning so he could sit on the bed. “Help me with my boots, Demelza,” he said, drawing her down onto her knees before him. He noticed her gaze flickered down to the front of his breeches, where the shape of his heavy erection was evident against the velvet material. Her hand reached for him before he could stop her, and the heat of her touch nearly unmanned him. “Boots first, always, Demelza,” he gasped, pulling her forward to press kisses on her hand, her cheek, and her lips. “Please help me now.” She nodded and the task was done shortly thereafter. She then peeled the stockings from his legs and rose to her feet.

He gathered her against him; his arms low across her back. He rested his cheek against her belly, breathing deep the scent of her he’d tried so hard to remove from his skin the day after their night together more than three weeks before, now wishing never to be parted from it again. He nuzzled the russet curls shielding her before slipping his tongue between the lips of her sex to tease the small bud at her centre. She trembled in his arms, fingers clutching at his hair until her knees gave way. He held her up, his arms wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as he lavished attention on that hypersensitive organ, drunk in the taste of her. She cried out, and he looked up to see her head thrown back in ecstasy, body flushed with her release.

He also knew that time was short for him and he still needed to be relieved of his breeches. He placed a kiss near her navel before rising to his feet, holding her up until she was able to stand on her own. He kissed her, sharing her taste, before leaning back to look into her deep green eyes. “No shame in what we do, my dear. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ross,” she said dreamily. Her tongue came out to sweep along her lower lip and he groaned.

“Please help me with my breeches, Demelza,” he implored. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, somewhat shakily, but bent to the task, making quick work of the thick buttons. She reached around to tug them down off his buttocks until they slid down his thighs to crumple onto the floor.

They came together in a crushing embrace: mouth to mouth, chest to breast, belly to belly, thigh to thigh. His erection nestled and thrust against the mound of her sex as his hands clenched and unclenched her buttocks. And the heat, the glorious heat of it all. They fell onto the bed together, legs tangling, hands searching and finding. Ross lavished attention to Demelza’s breasts, squeezing, tasting, suckling, elated to have the gift of them in his life once more. He reached down between her legs and found her wet, swollen and, from her outburst at his touch, near to aching for him. He slid first one knee, then the other between her legs and settled himself against her, rubbing himself against her sex, the tip of his erection teasing her centre with each upstroke. It was torturous, for all he wished to do was bury himself within her, riding her until he cried out his release. But he wanted her near frantic before then. And she was there.

He placed the tip of his erection just inside her. “Demelza, look at me,” he demanded hoarsely.

Her eyes, half blinded with desire, flickered open. “Ross… please…” she gasped.

“Look at us,” he gasped, holding his body up and away from hers with the strength of one arm. He slid deeper into her, felt her body stretch to accommodate him. “See how we fit together.” He nodded his head downward, willing her eyes to follow. She did and the shudder that ran through her rippled against him, took him even deeper. _Soon._

“Ross,” she breathed, her legs wrapping around his hips. Her eyes came back to stare into his. “Husband.”

“Demelza, my wife,” he growled, pressing deeper and deeper until he was fully seated within her welcoming heat. “You are mine.” The muscles of her inner walls convulsed around him as she came. He’d tried to hold some of his weight from her, but the strength of his arms failed him and he lay against her, lost in the primal need to mate. She matched him, thrust for thrust, her nails scoring his upper back. As they moved down towards his lower back to grasp his buttocks, his movements became jerky, involuntary. Past the point of no return, he slid his arms under her back, his hands coming up to cup the backs of her shoulders. “Always mine,” he gasped as he thrust deep, his orgasm ripping through him. He felt the waves shake him from head to foot, as the walls of her sex gripped him once again. His vision greyed around the edges and he grew nearly delirious with pleasure, emptying himself within her.

Several minutes passed before he became aware of the sound of quiet sniffles. Panicked, he raised himself up to find Demelza, her arms and legs still wrapped around him, gently weeping against him.

“Demelza,” he said, slipping from her body and gathering her against his side. Worry for her caused him to quake with fear and he leaned back to see if he could find any evidence of injury. “Did I hurt you, my dear?”

“No, not at all,” she said, shaking her head violently before pulling him back into her embrace. “My dear, dear Ross, it was beautiful, too beautiful. I couldn’t bear it.” She nestled her head against his shoulder.

He leaned back, relief filling him. He clasped her tightly to his body, pressing kisses along her hairline. “I have missed you, my dear.”

She peered up at him, a smile lighting up her eyes. “And I you, Ross.” She reached down and pulled the sheet up over them before returning to his embrace.

They lay quietly for a moment. Ross drew her closer to him and yawned contentedly. He’d really rather not sleep, not at the moment, but they had the rest of the day and night ahead of them. Just as he began to drift towards sleep he felt Demelza stir against him, her finger tracing around one of his nipples.

“Ross?”

He opened one of his eyes and looked down at her. “Yes, my dear?”

She shifted her body, sliding her upper torso to rest along his side and belly. She crossed her arms on top of his chest, and propped her chin against her folded hands. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head and her green cat eyes gleamed up at him. “What you did to me… before…you joined with me?”

He opened his other eye and grinned. “Yes?”

She bit her bottom lip and his body, much to his surprise, stirred in response. He now wondered if she bit her bottom lip on purpose. “Is that something men only do to ladies?”

He would never get enough of her.

 

*~*~*~*~ FIN ~*~*~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post Script: The text for the ceremony was found from the Republic of Pemberly's website, straight from the Church of England's Book of Common Prayer: [Form of Solemnization of Matrimony](http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/compraym.html).
> 
> While this particular chaptered story is over, Ross DID leave the door open for other possibilities. There could be a few one-shots or drabbles to come. I'm just sayin'. :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Post Script: The line “He remembered feeling as if he were someone who had adopted a tiger cub without knowing what it would grow into” is a paraphrase of what Winston Graham wrote in the first book and is one of my favourites. I find it perfectly describes the confusion Ross must have felt in encountering Demelza in That Dress.


End file.
